|posted on 16-Jun-2002 6:38:01 PM by Devilish|
|Disclaimer:Don't own 'em, I just like to play with 'em|
A/N:I started a new thread, and this is the repost.
Feedback: Yes, YES, YES, YES. I would REALLY love some. Makes me feel all google inside and makes me want to wrrrriiiiiiiittttttee*wink* *wink*
Grace rode her stride, purposeful and direct, her footfalls echoing down the dimly lit hallways of the silent castle, her eyes narrowed in thought, her skirts rustling around her ankles. High necked, the dress she wore was black, a symbol of death and mourning for a nation.
Death still reigns, it’s conquered, lines the streets. The air, stagnant with the scent of decay, a muted testimony of lives lost to a silent slayer. A virus wielded like deaths sickle.
Among the dead, piled high, a virus rages that cannot be cured, and will surely destroy all here.
Many have fled, a vain attempt at self-preservation, but I have no doubt that they too will soon be claimed.
All endeavors to create a vaccine have failed, and I fear that I am next to be concurred by an illness that have already claimed Zan and Rath - my son, and another who I always thought of as my own.
Rath came to me at the young age of five, after his parents died - his father, Rine, in battle, his mother, Elyn, of a broken heart. His mother was my lady in waiting and my best friend and I found myself unwilling to let him be raised by the strangers who were Elyns distant cousins, so I raised him as my own. And he’d been a boy, only fifteen, like my son, on the verge of becoming a man when the plague claimed his life.
He was the first to die, my son was the second, dieing only days after Rath had. We buried them quietly, side by side on royal soil. They’d been bonded, and they would lie in death as they had in life, together.
Seventeen more died, commoners and royal blood alike, before word of a plague swept the kingdom and rocked it’s people. One death a day soon became four, then seven, then ten. We no longer count, far to busy with the task of trying to find a place for the bodies to do so.
Our once bustling city streets are barren now, silent except for the occasionally sounds of weeping, coughing, or a death rattle, now more familiar to our ears then our own breathing.
Most of or people are dead, or dying, or simply waiting too.
The tiny white room smelled sharply of cleaning fluid and illness. Her hands shook at her side as she entered, quiet wheezing echoed in her ears as she took a seat.
A tremulous breath shuddered from her lungs as she stroked the stray blonds hairs that clung to with sweet to her daughters forehead back. Her skin was clammy, warm and slick to the touch, but she didn’t pull away, distantly fearing it would be the last caress she’d ever give her daughter and silently aware that it would be.
Slightly twitching, her daughters body shook the gurney, and she knew, had she more energy she would writhe in pain, but strength had all but fled her body, leaving it frail and teetering on the brink of death. Hopeless.
Like Tess, Isabels bond, had been, and how she’d died.
A quiet moan pulled her from her thoughts and she leaned forward, her lips brushing her daughter earlobe to whisper words of comfort.
“It is alright Vilandra. Let go if you must.”
The words were soft, and tremulous on her lips, but just. She would not let her daughter suffer for her own selfishness.
The hum of the heart mummer prodded at her consciousness but she ignored it, her daughters hand in her own, her body against her bosom rocked slowly like she had held her as a child.
The quiet hum faded, still she remained.
My daughter is the last. The last that I should see die, for I fear that I am next. The blood on my kerchief and the pain in my bones allude to that, but I am not naive, I do not play the game of denial, had not my need to see my children’s rebirth and survival through been so extreme, I would’ve been lost days ago….months ago perhaps. But I am not. I am the last of royal blood, and I am my children’s only hope.
The doctors feared my plans would temper fate, but that is of no importance to me.
That there lives, should only be able to be saved by splicing there genes with the only beings we ever revered as beneath us. Humans. Ironic that to survive, they will be reborn on earth as one of it’s own. Ironic that only 1/8 of their true nature should remain to protect them, to keep them safe and alive until they reach the mediocre planet earth, and until they find each other. Until the awakening.
Four others will be birthed along with them, bonders and carriers of the eighth element that will awaken their true nature when it’s time.
When I rest tonight, I know it will be for the last time, but I am not saddened, for I will rest in peace, with the knowledge that although I could not save myself, I saved my children.
Her eyelids fluttered, heavy with sleep, and she blinked, shadows cast by moonlight that spilled through her gauzy curtains catching her attention for a moment before she yawned, and closed her journal.
Gently her fingers caressed the covered, embossed with the royal shield, before she tucked it gently in a carrier, one that would be brought down to the dock to travel to earth with her children the next morning.
A morning she knew she would not see. She was not saddened. Her children would live. That alone was worth the cost of her life.
Gently she smiled, inside the journal she’d scribbled four words that she knew would be carried in her children’s hearts forever. That would instill her hope, and comfort and love, deeply in their souls, so that they would never doubt her heart.
[ edited 4 time(s), last at 21-Jun-2002 1:40:21 PM ]
|posted on 16-Jun-2002 7:20:37 PM by Devilish|
The road stretched into the horizon, a twisted black arrow pointing him home. Home. What a hateful deceitful little word, conjuring up pictures of a Norman Rockwell images of love, acceptance and warm embraces, not the ruddy , rusty , cramped van that it truly was.
On the radio the DJ fell silent and the soulful sounds of Poe filled the cab their second car, a Benz –the one and only splurge they’d allowed themselves- lulling him into lazy musing of his current abode, a shabby motel room with dingy sheets and a leaky faucet.
Barely twenty-four hours earlier, he’d been lying under the blazing sun, sounding ideas for escape with his friends, and trying to find a silver lining in the gray cloud his life had become. He’d been successful at neither. Gratefully, his thoughts wandered to the embodiment of everything he’d ever dreamed.
She had a coy smile, but rarely laughed. When she did though, it was from deep within her soul; soft black curls tumbled endlessly into to her eyes, warm like chocolate. She also carried an ass that made him thank G*d he’d wandered into Roswell all those years ago, and made him regret agree to giving each other ‘space’.
His straining erection brought him back to the present. Lost opportunities made the worst fantasies. Besides his world was completely different now, tender kisses and holding hands were no longer his biggest concern. Survival was.
Turning his concentration back to the road before him, he greedily sucked in the clean air, so rich with oxygen, it left him feeling light headed and giddy. It gave him a rush of energy, almost intoxicating, and his dick refused to go down.
That was no good.
Not when there was ‘space’ and almost a hundred mile's between what had once been his only relief. His cock strained, painfully when a flicker of a memory of her flitted quickly through his mind, making him even more restless and horny.
Sighing he turned his attention to the blur of trees he breezed past, wildflowers, even road kill in an attempt to calm his body. In the end the hunger that rumbled his stomach, found success. He felt his dick go limp in seconds.
Finally a road sign:
Food, gas, lodging next exit.
Damn he was hungry.
His stomach rumbled again as he pulled onto the exit and into the parking lot a few miles down, and stepped out onto the hard dusty ground.
Paranoia, birthed by spending the last few months running and fighting for survival, surfaced almost instantly and he glanced around, relaxing just a little when seemingly no one noticed his arrival, far to busy laughing, paring off and disappearing into the truck stops dingy motel rooms.
“Family values” he sniffed.
“Hey man, nice car”
He spun around, his body tense, ready to fight, or run if need be, and was greeted with the sight of three men -two just boys really- standing two parking spaces away, passing between them, a brown paper bag.
One was tall, and awkward looking with dull red hair, another –obviously the older of the three- lumbering and swollen, his fat belly hanging over his worn black belt. The third (obviously the youngest), the one who’d spoken, was tall but not gawky like the other, and compared to his companions , slightly on the soft side, wore a dirty base ball cap, pulled over his almost shoulder length hair.
The first two stood back, but boldly he stepped forward.
Fuck, silently he cursed, tensing as he ran a hand over his car. Had living on the run for the last six months taught him anything about being aware of his surroundings?
Discretely he kept an eye on his companions. They did not move, but eyed him coldly.
Turning his eyes back to the boy observing his car, he noted that upon closer inspection the boy looked about his age, seventeen, give or take a few years, and didn’t have the hardened features the others did, and seemed genuinely impressed with his wheels.
Though he couldn’t help but feel an itch of pride, there was something to the entire setup that seemed more than just innocent admiration.
“Forgot to get gas” he lied and jumped back into his car, not bothering to see if they believed him or not before revving his engine and taking off towards the pumps. Since it was Sunday they were not crowed and he found one quickly.
To his shock he found that one did not have to prepay before pumping, as obviously theft was one vice not practiced here.
“Burn much gas?”
Jumping startled, he looked around, and there was the boy again. Either he was a persistent criminal, or too naive to recognize a brush off when he got one. It was probably the latter but still, something felt wrong. “Nope, not too much”, he replied.
“Is it yours?”
“Where you from?”
He tensed again, before offering a hesitant, ”New Mexico”.
The boy loosed a low whistle and continued stroking the car so gently it was almost erotic.
“Wow, man. Really?” he sighed in awe, “Is it nice out there?”
“Yeah. I like it” he replied sincerely, quietly correcting himself, when he realized he no longer lived there. I liked it.
“This is a really nice car. You rich?”
He replied quietly, with a coy smile, having lost all fear of the boy, and finding he actually didn’t’ want to disillusion him.
For the first time, he actually looked at the boy, and felt almost silly for his earlier apprehension. He seemed not only filled with genuine almost childlike curiosity but instilled with an innocence that made him feel jealous and an almost instant kinship to him.
He remembered was it was like to be that innocent.
As if he could read his thought, he looked up and grinned, “I like you”, then motioned to his friends, “They don’t like outsiders, but I don’t care. Some are good, some ain’t, just like regular people”.
“Regular people” he snorted in reply.
A moment later the pump clicked off and so did his good will. He knew the boy had meant his comment as a compliment, but old apprehension, needed nowadays for survival resurfaced and he offered a gruff, “See ya”, and went to pay.
An old lady stood ahead of him and he thumbed the wrinkled twenty dollar bill he’d pulled from his pocket, shuffling restlessly behind her until his turn finally came. Handing the cashier the bill he asked where the bathroom was.
Narrowing his eyes, the cashier, paused before pointing to the two twin doors by the emergency exit.
Quickly, he accepted his change and hurried to the bathroom, eager to take a piss and be on his way.
Hesitant, as he was aware how dirty these rest-stop bathrooms where, he stepped inside, finding himself grateful when he noticed there was hardly a smell and the tiny room seemed quite clean.
Stepping up to the bathrooms sole toilet, he unzipped and set about his business.
Seconds in, he heard the door behind him open and cursed his haste for making him forget to lock the door.
“Yeah, I like you a lot” said a now familiar voice, and he jumped and turned so quickly he nearly wet himself.
There stood the boy, leaning against the opposite wall, in his best James Dean pose, and was stunned silent for a moment, just long enough for him to turn and lock the door.
His earlier fear returned. How could he have been so damned stupid?
However, his hands went neither to his pockets for a knife or to his waistband for a gun, but to his crotch, which he fondled roughly.
His fear disappeared, and his jaw fell in amazement.
A T-room trick at a back road truck stop?
The idea was so clichéd, it seemed almost funny. His lips quirked into a smile, one which he mistook for agreement, and fished out his dick.
It was large, much like he would’ve expected for his form, and he seemed quite proud of himself, stroking it firmly, his eyes never leaving his.
Oddly enough he felt himself growing excited then quickly ashamed. He may be single, on account of his girlfriends, need for space, but he was straight.
His brow furrowed when that last word sounded more like a question than a statement.
I love Liz, he quietly reminded himself, his internal voice firm, leaving no room for discussion.
At a loss, he turned back to the toilet, to urinate, but that need was long forgotten. He wasn’t quite sure what to do, but refused to run like a coward.
He was a king for God sakes. He had six peoples lives in his hands and he would stand his ground.
Behind him, he heard the slap of his sneakers on the ground but did not turn around.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his heart pounding wildly in his ears.
“Twenty bucks” he whispered in reply.
“You’ve got to be kidding me”
“Alright………fifteen” he said, misunderstanding again, and he could hardly suppress a nervous laugh.
“Shhhhhhhh” he scolded him gently, turning him to face him.
Quickly, he stifled his laugh. Leaving them both bathed in silence as they grinned foolishly at each other.
Then he dropped to his knees.
“This is……..this is dangerous” And so wrong, he said, earnest but weak.
The boy just shrugged. “Don’t worry. I do it all the time”.
Distantly, he knew he should’ve walked out, and driven away as fast as he could. Should’ve remembered where he was, what would happen if they were discovered, and should’ve considered his ‘girlfriend’ who waited back at home for him; but as he took him into his mouth, all rational thought disintegrated.
He sucked hard, hungrily, desperately: what he lacked in technique he made up for in effort.
He wasn’t naive, had no illusions that this boy had any feelings for him, but knew that this was more than just a financial arrangement.
He was too eager.
He pulled off for a moment and looked up at him. “I want it” he said and went back to sucking.
Maybe he did want it –need it- more than he did.
A strange feeling came over him. Something like relief and guilt, all at the same time.
He hadn’t initiated this encounter, but like it or not, he became responsible for it, the moment he didn’t pull away, and his well being. Something made him feel the need to make sure this boy knew that he mattered, and that he cared.
He ran his fingers beneath his cap, moaning softly.
He jerked away roughly, “Shhhhhhhh” he said again, brusquely, then resumed sucking.
A second passed before his feelings whipsawed again and he became painfully aware of what he was doing and where he was doing it.
Instantly his empathy vanished and so did his restraint, as he grabbed his head and forced his dick down his throat.
He gagged but made no move to pull away, masturbating himself with his right hand, and urging him in deeper with his left.
Without hesitation he obliged, grinding in hard and silently, giving no thought to his comfort.
Soon enough, he felt himself loosing control and tried to pull away, but he held him fast in place. Oh well, he thought to himself and toyed with the idea of just letting go. It’d been so long since he could just let go.
I do this all the time, he had said and he doubted any of his other ‘customers’ had volunteered their HIV status. He knew they hadn’t but that was beside the point. Something more than raw need was keeping him here, his dick inside some stranger’s mouth. Something more wouldn’t just let him go.
But this was still, to some extent, about him and he would not be like the other beaten cowardly souls who used him for furtive pleasure and robbed him of humanity.
At the last moment he ripped away, spraying across his face, neck, and shirt. Seconds passed before he followed his lead and came in choked grunts, his face collapsed against his leg.
For a moment, they remained frozen together, joined by their gasps as their fingers intertwined, before he suddenly bolted upright.
“Shit” he cried and hurried to the sink, wetting a paper towel to wash away the remnants of their encounter.
Quietly, he put away his dick and reached into his pocket, handing him a twenty dollar bill as he left.
“Thanks” he said.
“Shane” he offered quietly.
“See ya Shane”.
He didn’t look back as he started towards his car. What a lame ass thing to say, he thought quietly.
Outside, hot air rolled over him with such anger he half expected to smell brimstone. His heart shuddered with fear, exhaustion and something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, as he climbed into his car, something that made him want to run back, find that boy and beg him to come with him.
He didn’t, instead, starting his engine, and easing out of his parking spot, noting that the boys friends eyes had followed him to the car and were still on him even now, as they leaned against the rest stop wall.
They stood, their narrowed eyes still on his face before hesitating and disappearing into the men’s room closing the door behind them.
His car remained, engine rumbling in front the small building, as if he were awaiting something. What? Even he didn’t know.
Why aren’t you leaving?, a quiet voice questioned.
He didn’t have an answer, until a loud bang shattered the semi-silence.
Out of reflex he ducked and looked around, his foot aching to slam down on the gas, but not. Out the corner of his eye he caught site of the men’s room. The loud bang had been the door, violently flung open; the boy he’d been with came running out, the taller one in close pursuit.
The older, fat one appeared soon after. “Kill the motherfucker!” he screamed.
The tall one caught the boy, and flung him to the ground, and they were on him in an instant. The taller one holding him, that fat one kicking the squirming but silent boy in his chest, face, groin, anywhere he could.
Drive away! ,his mind screamed, this isn’t about you!
He didn’t, couldn’t, and floored the accelerator instead, circling towards them, and waiting until he was almost upon them to hit his horn. The two attackers looked up, saw him, and jumped to the side.
Slamming on brakes, he skidded within inches of the boy.
“Get in!” he screamed throwing open the passenger side door, knowing the other two, would hesitate only a moment before turning on him.
Silently he prayed that the boy was coherent enough to do that, and sighed relieved when he did, half-leaping, half-tumbling, into the passenger seat.
His legs still dangled outside as, with a squirt of gravel and dirt, he sped away.
Frantically, his hands gripping the steering wheel white knuckled, half –expecting, half-dreading the tale tell signs of his companions following them.
“They ain’t coming, I got the keys”, he said smiling at him through dirt and blood and the beginning of a blue and black bruise.
From the drivers seat, he looked at him incredulously, then broke out into a gale of almost hysterical laughter. The boy joined, but not with same gusto he did, each chuckle echoing with sadness.
“What was all that about?” he asked.
The laughter died almost instantly, the boy redirecting his gaze out the car window. He did not speak for several minuets and now spent, he did not have the energy to press for an answer.
After several miles he realized he had a new problem. How would he explain this boy to the other if he brought him home to the van. He couldn’t, so he wouldn’t, but found he couldn’t just stop the car and order him out in the middle of nowhere.
Just outside the sun was beginning to set.
What the hell am I going to do?, he thought quietly to himself.
“Some friends you got back there” he said to break the silence and ease into conversation. The boy still did not answer.
Finally, sighing frustratedly, he asked, “Where do you live? I’ll take you home”.
Breathing deeply, the boy leaned his head wearily against the door. “Cant’ go home. Not for a while at least”.
“Well you can’t stay here” he snapped angrily in reply, and instantly regretted it. He was beaten and afraid and surely he could find a kinder way to end this. While he searched for something to say, the boy spoke up.
“Those ain’t my friends. One was my brother. The others my father”.
For a moment he wanted to stop the car but didn’t. His wall of silence was beginning to crumble and out of sympathy and something else he wanted to listen.
“One of my father friends took a liking to me a couple of years ago. He came home one day and found us in bed. Beat the shit outta us both. I think they were angrier at me for what happened though. I woulda told them that that I didn.......I woulda explained but they never asked”
He’d said the last part so quietly he wasn’t sure if he’d wanted him to hear so he didn’t comment on it.
“After that, they left me alone for a while……except for when they’d get drunk. They’d slap me around, and make me do………. things for them, then slap me around again” his face flushed and turned red with shame, and after a few moments of uncomfortable silence he continued.
“A few months ago they figured out that there were other people who would pay good money for a guy like me……..so when they need some money we go to Ginny’s Place”.
“So……….that’s what we did. What’s the problem?” he asked, not trying to hide his confusion.
The boy shifted again in his seat, his eyes fixing on the dark road before them. Again the old hesitance returned, but he refused to let him slip into silence.
“Because you’re an outsider” he cut him off before he could speak, “Your not one of my father friends, your not even one of his friends friends”
“Bad for business huh” he hissed in reply, suddenly angry again, “So why did you do it?”
After a long moment he finally turned to face him, and spoke alit more harshly than he would’ve thought possible. “Because I wanted to. I told you before, I like you”.
They drove another few miles in silence, the only sound in the car, the quiet hum of the air conditioner and his sniffles. His composer had buckled but not given way. He would not cry but the tears were insistent in filling his eyes.
“What about the rest of your family?” he finally asked.
“There’s only my mother” he shrugged, “ and she don’t care, as long as she’s got her bottle everything alright”.
More silence. Then at last, another road sign appeared: ‘Cannas Five Miles’.
“You can let me off here” he said softly, “I’ll hang out here, then hitch back. Give my father and brother a few days to cool off”.
Despite the horrible stab of fear that he would never see him again, he nodded. What else could he do?
Silently he drove onto Cannas’s main street, lined with discount groceries, fast food joints, a ten-room school and a cheap motel.
It would do for the time being.
Slowly he pulled in.
“Are we going in?” he asked, his eyes dropping to the floor, or maybe the worn tennis he wore.
He knew he didn’t mean to sleep.
“No you are” he replied emphatically. “You can stay the night here and go home in the morning –if you want”.
He nodded and smiled sheepishly, unaccustomed to any kindness. Turning, he started to go in, but stopped when he grabbed his arm. Needing to say this before he lost his nerve.
“”Tomorrow I’m checking out, eight sharp. If you want, you can come with me”.
He kept his eyes on the floor and nodded. “Thanks……..”
“Max” he offered quietly, smiling, his shoulders, for once not so heavy with the worlds burdens.
“Max” he sighed, and started to go in but stopped again. “Goodnight”
“It’s not Shane”
Maxs brow furrowed, but he remained silent.
“My name it’s not Shane, it’s Michael”.
A small smile quirked, Max’s lips and he replied quietly his hands brushing his where it lay at his side, “Goodnight Michael”.
His eyes, as endlessly blue as any sky, lost their hardness and he smiled.
Max smiled too, watching him disappear inside before leaving to find his own room, hoping deep down that tomorrow, he wouldn’t be traveling the long road home, alone.
Leave some, it's like speed for some writers. Me in preticular
Plus it'll help me decide if I should still post chapter 3.
[ edited 2 time(s), last at 16-Jun-2002 8:55:58 PM ]
|posted on 21-Jun-2002 3:18:01 AM by Devilish|
mandyhanford originally wrote:
Great story. I started reading it awhile ago. Please post more soon, TODAY??? Very HOT.
I'm glad you liked/like it. I was worried no one would read it cause it's not strictly dreamer.
Major thanks for the bump and I just finished spell checking my new chapter for this so, it should be up tommorow.
Thanks for the reply
Gaby7tvm originally wrote:
I'm here again saying that I just love this story, I'll be waiting fro some nookie
More nookie? As if!
JK'ing,how could I not write more nookie, it's what makes every fic great,LOL.
Glad you like my story and I do have some, I'm not quit sure you can call it nookie, maybe just nook, yeah, so anyway, I have some nook in this chapter too.
Thanks for the reply and see you tommorow
Rapunzel originally wrote:
Bump.......I love this fic!
You know, every time I see your name now I think of your title,(Leather and Bondage) how much I love it and how much it makes me wantto right naught nookie scenes(the title that is) so I guess I should be thanking you, LOL;)
Oh and I hope you don't mind me mentioning your story in this,I just.........damnit I love that title.
believer_evans originally wrote:
PLease come back and post more.
I'm on my way back with more now!
I know, took long enough huh,LOL.
Sorry about that.
Anywho,much thanks for the bump though and I'm so glad you liked
Oh and everyone, I'm updating tomoorow so see you then I guess.
|posted on 21-Jun-2002 3:54:34 AM by Devilish|
|Yes I'm bumping myself.|
Cause I want too
|posted on 21-Jun-2002 11:58:53 AM by Devilish|
faithless_behr originally wrote:
|posted on 21-Jun-2002 12:04:10 PM by Devilish|
ChaosTheory originally wrote:
Like. I. Needed. It.
But thanks anyway.
Dark Phoenix huh?
Why'd you change your siggy line?
[ edited 1 time(s), last at 21-Jun-2002 12:04:36 PM ]
|posted on 21-Jun-2002 1:35:52 PM by Devilish|
|Disclamer:Look up there^^^^|
A/N:There's is some nook(not quit nookie) in this story. Oh and reply. I love feedback, it makes me want to write*wink**wink*
Steam clouded the grimy six inch mirror, only big enough to show his face. His face, he grimaced, the very last thing he wanted to see ; his wide blue eyes, pained and far to honest and the ugly – so familiar bruises that colored his paled skin.
He hated his face.
Working his jaw, he tested it’s soreness’ before running his hands through his hair, and glancing over his shoulder, looking for a dry towel to dry it, and working it furiously over his damp hair when he found one.
Even then he couldn’t bring himself to look away from his reflection – his face bathed in the bright yellow florescent light that flooded the tiny bathroom, disturbed him, and shamed him with it’s familiarity.
Still, undeterred, he stared.
He was stalling, he knew, but just didn’t care.
For the norm.
For life to fuck him over, as it seemed to like to do that these days.
An hour had passed.
Ticked quietly by in the silence. Slowly.
The ceiling remained the same, a plain white slate in need of paint, but he couldn’t look away.
If he did his mind would wonder, wander into the dangerous, rocky, fucked up, charted territory of his life, or at least some equally disturbing semblance of it, and he didn’t want to do that.
Couldn’t. Not right now.
He hadn’t dressed, to absorbed in contemplating the question on his mind to, and had simply laid out, across his tiny twin bed, in his towel, still damp from his shower, stopping only to open a window.
A soft breeze slipped in, ruffled the dingy curtains and skittered teasingly across his bare chest, and he shivered. The numb silence he’d worked his mind and body into giving way, to the incessant chatter of his thoughts and a frown.
Never mind how hard he tried, his body never failed to remind him, that he was alive.
A warm breath flickered across his skin, teasing, taunting like the soft sound of his uneven breathing in the silence.
A warm hand, rough, demanding, slid up his thigh, stopping when his breath caught, and he flinched, and played with the idea of saving himself, shattering the moment.
Lips, soft, and disconcerting, brushed his ear, whispered for him to relax, and promised it’d be okay.
But he never heard him. He’d already saved himself – let his mind scamper away to leave his body numb.
An hour had passed.
Ticked quietly by in the silence. Slowly.
Sunlight, pale and, soft – just the beginning of dawn, cast lazy rays into the tiny room, lighting it with it’s soft glow and reminding him where he was.
The bed groaned beneath him as when he pulled himself up to sit on the edge of the bed.
The feel of those lips still lingered with him and a soft sigh semi – moan slipped from his lips and justified his tented towel.
Unaware his slid his hand up his thigh, the feel of it almost the same as it’d been that night, and let the soft pads of his fingers trailed lightly over the heated skin of his cock before grabbing it tightly in his hands. Too tight.
The pain drug a low whimper from his lips, that was eerily familiar to his ears. A sound that made him shiver, and his stomach drop.
After a moment he decided to ignore it, and loosened his tight grip enough to slid his hand to the very base of his dick then back to the tip. In his hand his cock twitched and demanded more.
Leaning back, he propped himself with his free hand and began to move the other faster, stopping only to swipe a drop of liquid from the tip. After a few moments he stopped unable to, far too unnerved by the silence.
It seemed un-usual to do this without someone watching or egging him on or begging to let them help for twenty bucks.
Sighing he dropped back unto the bed, his eye fining solace in the blank slate ceiling once more.
He hadn’t slept the night before, not that he hadn’t tried, and the lack of sleep dulled the painful memories this act usual induced, but he couldn’t.
He’d never had a chance to do this alone, to just close his eyes and imagine whomever he wanted, and make himself cum.
This act had been reserved for paying customers before he reached puberty and stopped having dry orgasms, and he couldn’t bring himself to do it now.
Licking him lips he exhaled slowly and tried relax his body enough to sleep but couldn’t, another need overcoming his need to sleep right now.
Reaching back down, his let his mind to the first and last kiss he’d shared with a girl – Judith Frank – when he was ten years old, and still believed that what he shared with his fathers friends was some wonderful secret he just couldn’t understand the value of.
She’d let him kiss her, just a peck on her soft lips, but had left when he’d tried to touch her, to share what his fathers friends had with him, hoping it wouldn’t make her feel quiet as dirty as he had.
But she’d just frowned, and stomped away, leaving him alone, and he never got another chance at what she’d offered him that day on the playground – normalcy – again.
He shivered again and pushed that thought away, focusing on the thought of the way he thought she felt now, her soft ample breast, the tight skin of her nipples, her warm tongue, how hot and slick she would’ve been, making his hand a poor substitute for what he assumed a hot wet pussy felt like.
Slowing at the tip, his mind blurred the erotic images his imagination conjured up with other memories, his hand slowing and his body tensing when the image of Judith’s tongue lazily lapping at his head was replaced with the memory of violent ramming, the smell of blood and cum and the feeling of him sucking on him, pulling him in, and swallowing him down.
His hips pistoning violently he came, a quiet strangled cry, forcing itself from his lips, before his breathing slowed and he pushed himself upright, eyeing his now spent member with contempt, disgust and shame.
A flicker of the violent image that he’d cum to, fluttered through his mind and he frowned, reached down and let his finger stroke the skin of his flaccid cock, and grimaced at the pain they drew before doing it again. Then again.
It hurt like hell.
Leaning forward all the way, he cupped his face with his open palms, made himself breath, a shuddering breath that he could feel all the way to the tips of his toes, and tried to convince himself that he’d tried as hard as he could to save himself that night.
Slowly, his breathing slowed and he pushed himself from the bed and stumbled to the bathroom, ignoring his towel when it fell to the wayside.
“It was him, not me” he whispered quietly to the dim reflection his face staring back at him, “Not me”, and believed it.
His hand went to the tiny porcelain tub, found the faucet and let the tap run for a moment before, flipping the switch for the shower.
Steams billowed for the stream of scalding water and he sighed and ran his hands through his hair before stepping in.
Hoping that maybe if he washed hard enough this time, he’d leave here not so dirty.
An hour had passed.
Ticked quietly by in the silence. Slowly.
His hand wandered distractedly up his arms and he winced and pulled away when his fingertip hit a patch of skin that he’d scrubbed to hard, and was tender to the touch.
Licking his lips he cast a furtive glace at the door.
He was waiting he knew.
He’d said the night before that he would be.
Should I go, should I go?
Nervously his knee began to tremble, and he scratched distractedly at that tender patch of skin, drawing blood.
Should I go, should I go?
He could bring himself to stand and stared intently at the door.
The hour ticked quietly by in the silence. Slowly.
An hour……a couple hours had passed.
Ticked quietly by in the silence. Slowly.
His eyes caught bits of scenery from the window, fogging slightly every time he took a breath.
It was silent. Too silent.
The kind of silence that lets your mind wander.
The blur of trees slowed, focused, and he blinked at the bright sunshine.
Had he said that?
He’d felt his lips move but the voice hadn’t sounded like his own.
“I don’t know what to say”.
“I’ll just say………..hello?”
“So your going to say…..hello?”
He nodded. “Hello”
He nodded again.
“Good” Max sighed, glancing over at him and then grinning at the approaching figures of his friends, ”cause we’re here”
I know,I know, just a tiny bit of Max in this chapter but the next is his, I promise.
Thanks for reading, and reply, reply, reply.
[ edited 3 time(s), last at 9-Aug-2002 8:15:21 PM ]
|posted on 21-Jun-2002 2:13:57 PM by Devilish|
|Okay...........I was just walking by and tripped and accidentaly just *Oops* BUMPED myself.|
I'm innocent, honestly *insert evil smile here*
* and evil laughter...............................................
[ edited 1 time(s), last at 21-Jun-2002 2:15:58 PM ]
|posted on 21-Jun-2002 3:23:38 PM by Devilish|
Rapunzel originally wrote:
I bow down to you, great Queen of Smut! Lol, that was a great new part!
Hmmmm, that has a nice ring to it. I'll have to tell my mother I'm changing my name,LOL.
Lol, I'm just so happy you love the title of my fic...heeheehee...Leather and Bondage...it does have a nice ring to it, doesn't it?!
Please post more of this soon!
Glad you liked, and honestly, if anyone(besides me that is,LOL) is the queen of smut it is definantly you. I mean, you have a story called Leather and Bondage, thats the kind of name Queens of smut, like you and I, loveLOL
Thanks for the reply, my fellow Queen Of Smut,
[ edited 1 time(s), last at 21-Jun-2002 3:26:04 PM ]
|posted on 21-Jun-2002 3:35:56 PM by Devilish|
Rapunzel originally wrote:
Lmao, just wait till my story actually becomes smutty....
How could I?
Smutty Leather and Bondage?
Ohhhhhhhh, now you've really got me anxious, about that story.
I don't think I've ever heard anything more wonderful and thought provoking,LOL.
Naughty thoughts that is,LOL
*Naughty thoughts here, naughty thoughts there, naughty thoughts, naughty thoughts every where*
I made that up, it could be on our Smut Queen seals,LOL
[ edited 1 time(s), last at 21-Jun-2002 3:38:05 PM ]
|posted on 21-Jun-2002 5:26:07 PM by Devilish|
Gaby7tvm originally wrote:
I love it, you know it...POST SOON
So Mike is Bi hu?????
Glad you liked it.
Hmmmm, what would you call someone thats a little more than that??
mandyhanford originally wrote:
Great new part. Very interesting. Please post more soon!
Glad you liked Mandy.
Much thanks for the bump
|posted on 22-Jun-2002 10:59:15 AM by Devilish|
BelevnDreamsToo originally wrote:
Okay...the blue eyes threw me!!! Was that Michael?? I was thinking the whole time it was Kyle and what the hell were Jim and his friends doing??? YIKES!!! Does Michael have blue eyes in your story??
Can't wait for more!!! Thanks J
Oh, yeah he does. Michaels got blue eyes in this story cause brown eyes are to common and I've got a thing for blue eyes.
Sorry for the confusion
But don't worry, theres lots of Kyle, smutty Kyle*grins foolishly at the thought* to come a little later
I'll try to post again soon.
Thanks for the reply
[ edited 1 time(s), last at 22-Jun-2002 11:01:13 AM ]
|posted on 23-Jun-2002 1:32:47 AM by Devilish|
mandyhanford originally wrote:
|posted on 23-Jun-2002 11:40:57 AM by Devilish|
|Thanks Cinder and DrangonFire. I'm glad you guys liked it, and I will try to post more soon but honestly, I'll have to post more of NBTB first cause *warning pathetic sentence ahead* I had to put myself on this schedual so that every story got updated and not left behind.|
So When I finish a chapter of Nothing But The Blood,I have to start on a chapter of Slash, then when I finish that it's Fucked turn,then Original Sin.
Thats the order I go, NBTB,Slash,Fucked,and Original Sin.
Pathetic I know, but all of the storys wouldn't have been able to get updated if I did it any other way.
Anywho,I'll just try to crank out a chap. of NBTB sooner so I an get to work on part four of this one.
[ edited 1 time(s), last at 23-Jun-2002 11:41:55 AM ]
|posted on 23-Jun-2002 5:45:03 PM by Devilish|
Teresa originally wrote:
Michael has had a rough life....Now, I'm just wanting him to get to feel the moist, inner walls of someone's pussy. And more Max in the next chapter. I can't wait!!!
I really want him to get some too,LOL.
Thanks, again, for the reply, and I promise more Max in the next chapter.