#(in which dave is worshipping cock | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

juletheghoul · 4 years ago

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Dulcis Part 2

Here we are everyone - part 2 - please be warned that this doesn't have a happy ending (I don't think anyone expected there to be a happy ending for this story) and I understand that this is quite toxic. So no hard feelings if you're not into that - go ahead and scroll past it. I took some liberties with Carols job, I don't actually remember whether or not her career is mentioned in the movie so it is what it is.

To everyone who took a moment to comment / reblog / message me about this story - thanks so much and I hope you enjoy.

Thanks to my ladies for letting me send you paragraph upon paragraph of my Dave filth. @frannyzooey @foli-vora @mouthymandalorian

Dave (Murder Daddy) York x F!Reader

Pairing: David York x F!Reader

Word Count: 9.5K (are we even surprised at this point)

Warnings: **TRIGGER WARNING** NSFW 18+ INFIDELITY! (reader is engaged, David is married) language, Smut, PIV sex (wrap it up), dirty talk, **daddy kink** oral (f receiving) vaginal fingering, squirting, semi-public sex praise & aftercare, heavy guilt, violence / death- let me know if I missed any!

Masterlist

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It was disorienting when you woke up. This was not your bed, this was not your room, this is not Charlie.

The both of you must have fallen asleep after everything you’d done. Your phone was still beeping, it was what had woken you up in the first place. You looked at the time - it was two am.

Babe? What the hell is going on? Are you okay?

Jesus Christ.

You had six missed calls from Charlie - you had your phone on silent while you and Dave did...your thing. You quickly called him while Dave slept and hoped he wasn’t on his way home.

The guilt was so intense as you laid there, naked with Dave’s cum dried and flaky on the inside of your thighs. The fact that he answered right away made it worse.

“Babe??” He sounded frantic - genuinely worried, which hurt even more.

“Hey- I’m so sorry, I grabbed dinner and then ended up passing out! I was more tired than I thought.” You laughed lightly - trying to keep your voice down so as not to wake Dave. This all felt so wrong and you suddenly wanted to be far away from everyone and everything. You could hear Jack in the background telling Charlie he was being ridiculous.

“Just glad you’re okay - we usually talk before bed and I was worried that we barely spoke today. Just being paranoid I guess.” You could hear his worry and his relief at having heard from you. Dave turned to face you and you gave him a look that said quiet,he lifted his eyebrows at you. Scooting closer to you.

“Yeah I’m okay babe it’s all good. I’m sorry I wasn’t talkative today-” Your voice hitched at the end of your sentence when Dave started kissing your neck. His hand rubbing at the soft skin of your belly, slowly making its way up to cup your breast possessively. You swallowed hard, this was too much. Charlie kept speaking but you had a lump in your throat as you tried to tell Dave to stop with a look.

He ignored you. Charlie was telling you about his day while Dave made his way between your legs, putting your them on his shoulders. You were trying to close them as Charlie's voice sounded in your ear, but he held them open. He ran a finger through your folds, collecting your arousal and making a show of tasting you.

“That’s awesome babe - did you have fun?” You tried to keep your voice normal but he was kissing your thighs and spreading you open. He looked up at you through his lashes as he speared you with two thick fingers, curling them just so. It was hard to focus with him hitting that spongy spot inside you that made you see stars. You could hear the wet noises your cunt was making and the blush crept up your chest.

“Sorry babe I’m so tired, let me call you tomorrow - love you!” You were trying to close your legs and Dave let you, putting them together over one shoulder. His fingers didn’t stop however, it only made you tighter, made you feel him more this way.

You hung up as Charlie said his goodbyes and you couldn’t be bothered to care. Not when you were so close to falling off the cliff. He stopped then when you hung up and you whimpered. He shifted so he was kneeling, holding your legs together in one arm as he guided himself to your opening.

You moaned at the stretch - you’d lost count how many times he’d fucked you and even though your pussy was puffy and sore you didn’t want him to stop. Your arousal flowing freely despite how tired you were.

“Has he ever made you this wet? Does he know how to fuck this pretty pussy? My pretty pussy?” His strokes were slow and thorough, burying himself to the hilt and slowly pulling all the way out, watching himself disappear fully into your slicked cunt. His balls slapping against your ass with each thrust, a soft pap pap pap accompanying the wet sounds of body sucking him in.

How could you still be this turned on? How could you still be leaking slick onto the ruined bedspread after having him inside you so many times? How the fuck could he ask you this right now? You couldn’t answer, not when it felt so good. He didn’t like that though, you knew the rules.

He pulled all the way out and waited until you answered.

“No - no one has ever fucked me like this, no one has ever made me this wet before, please - please make me cum again, please daddy.” You tried to reach up to pull him close to you but he didn’t let you - he guided himself into you once more and set a brutal pace.

He opened your legs wide - holding them by the back of your thighs - just above your knees. He nearly folded your body in half as he pushed your legs up into your chest. The new angle made you wail, he was hitting something deep, something that made your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Does that feel good? Look how cock-dumb you are right now, so fucking pretty, taking my dick so well… god, I could fuck this pussy for hours..” He was snapping his hips, hitting your pelvis hard and it was too much, something huge was happening inside you, you felt it in your stomach and it was spreading, blinding you.

It was like you were floating for a moment, suspended in air as felt yourself pushing him out of your body. You shuddered violently and felt the liquid gush of your orgasm between you.

“Fuck baby, fuck that’s so good. So fucking good...my good girl.” He was stroking himself against your ruined cunt, the thick tip of him rubbing your clit as you shuddered. You felt him cum on your mound but you could barely move. He rubbed his cock through your folds, through your combined liquids. You felt tired, bone tired. You felt filthy, never having been this wanton with anyone before - it was scarily satisfying, and you needed comfort.

Maybe it was his depravity, the way he made you mad with lust but you always needed something after and he knew how to give it to you.

He got up and walked over to his bathroom and cleaned himself up, bringing a warm wet rag with him. This is the only thing Dave did gently.

He opened your legs and cleaned you thoroughly, every trace of himself, every drop of your own arousal. You winced slightly, your pussy was sensitive and sore.

“You did so good baby, such a good girl for me. You took me so well - this pussy was made for me. So perfect and pretty and just for me. You know you’re my favourite right?” He rubbed soothing circles over the soft skin of your belly and it made you uncharacteristically needy for him.

“Yes - Just for you.” You repeated softly. You wanted him closer.

He took the blanket out from under you, it was soaked and he tossed it into the hamper beside the dresser, stopping to grab another from the closet. He covered you with it and got into bed beside you. You half expected him to tell you to get dressed but he didn’t, he laid with you and pulled you into his chest. He rubbed soothing circles onto your back while you listened to his heartbeat in your ear.

“Sleep baby, you deserve it. I’ll drive you home in the morning.” He kissed your forehead - the tenderness after everything you’d done was overwhelming. “Do you need some water?” He seemed to remember how long you’d been in bed together and now that he mentioned it you were parched.

“Yes please -” Before you had finished he was up and out of the room. You looked around, felt the bed underneath you. It smelled like sex and sweat and his wife's perfume.

You should have been ashamed of yourself. The guilt was always present and you felt it now but the slithering thing had wrapped itself around it, choking the life out of it and when you saw him walk into the room with a big glass of water and a little smile you couldn’t be bothered.

“Here- drink this and then we can get some sleep.” He watched as you drank, a guilty look flickering across his face when he saw how thirsty you were, you drained the whole glass and handed it back to him. Wiping a few drops from your chin with the back of your hand.

He got into bed behind you and spooned you, you were tucked into his chest - his hand rubbing your arm while you drifted off, you couldn’t remember ever being this comfortable.

------------------

All the softness was gone the next morning.

You saw it clearly then, there are two versions of Dave - that you know of.

The confident, cocky powerhouse with a big dick that fucks you like a god and makes you see stars through your pussy. The David that is cool, calm and collected - indifferent and laissez faire about you and your life and the destruction he’s wrought.

Then there’s aftercare David. The soft, soothing David. The one that makes you feel safe and calls you his best girl and makes you want to leave everything behind. Makes you want to worship him and do whatever it takes to hear those words.

My good girl, my best girl

But you aren’t a good girl are you, you’re a cheater. You’re a manipulator and your fiance is worrying about you while you’re getting fucked three ways from Sunday in a married man's bed.

The slithering thing has no loyalties - and it turns on you now in the cold light of day.

You think all these things and more as you get dressed, as you gather any evidence of your night with David in his room, in his marital bed and slink away to wait for him to take you home. You vaguely wonder if he’ll fuck Carol in this bed tonight. Will he think of you?

Does he say those filthy things to her? Does he make her beg and plead and call him daddy? Somehow you don’t think so, and if he does - you definitely shouldn’t care.

You’re quiet on the way home, the guilt and the shame are eating you alive. Consuming you from the inside out and every time you think about what you did, what you let him do to you your stomach roils. You want to scrape David out of your mind and out of your body. Exorcise yourself of him. You can’t even bear to look at him and yet you dread getting out of the car.

Your mind and your body are at war, and he can see it. He can see the way your thighs clench and he can imagine that you're remembering scenes from last night. Can see that you won’t look him in the eye.

Charlie texts you then and it compounds the guilt, makes it solid and gives it heft in your stomach.

Hope you slept well - going on a hike with Jack, talk later - love you xo

You text him back quickly, telling him to be careful and that you loved him too. How can you say these words to him when all you’re thinking about is the pleasant ache at your core? When you’re thinking about inviting David inside - to your haven, to Charlies space. You don’t do it though, you can’t.

When you arrive at your building he pulls into a visitors parking spot and you half expect him to say something filthy and leave you on edge all day but what you don't know is that David is excellent at reading people. He saw your thoughts splayed across your face the whole drive home. What you don’t know is that David doesn't like or love you- David is obsessed with you.

David wants to own you and how you feel about that doesn’t matter to him.

He unlocks the doors after the car is parked and he gives you a moment to collect your things, but only a small moment. He turns to look at you and when you reciprocate he leans over - slowly, watching your mouth as he comes closer and closer.

You know he’s giving you time to pull away but you can’t, even now, even after everything you’ve thought about and the horrible thoughts and the guilt. After all that you cannot pull away.

Instead you lean in too, meeting him halfway and he kisses you roughly, biting your lip, crushing his mouth to yours cruelly. A clashing of teeth and tongues and gasps. His kiss is a reflection of how he feels about you, it’s not soft or loving. It’s all consuming and vulgar and his tongue is licking deep into your mouth. He’s pulling a groan out of you and you can’t help but grab at his hair while he does so and it shames you that even now, you crave him.

--------------------------------------

David didn’t know when the switch had happened.

There were things he knew for a certainty, first was that his marriage was a sham. Maybe he had felt something for Carol long ago, when they first met and he had married her because she was as good as any to be a cover. With the way he made a living, he needed his home life to be as inconspicuous as possible.

Second was that he was fond of his girls, they were the good parts of him and they were to be protected.

Third was that he needed more of you. He’d had a taste of your heat, of your whimpers as he drove into you. You were so responsive and pliable, you took everything he gave you and you still wanted more.

He needs more.

“All good on that cellphone you asked me to trace.” His colleague dropped off the files on his desk as he finished typing up his report. Now he would know where you were at all times. Would be able to see everything you did on your phone. He could read every text, every email - could see every call.

There was a little part of his brain that genuinely tried to tell him this was wrong. That you were going to get married to someone else - that he had his own family; but then he could see you writhing underneath him, could hear you begging for him to fuck you harder. Telling him you were his and his alone and he couldn’t give that up.

This was better.

--------------------------------

It was easy to focus on work the week after. You could make the argument that your weekend with Dave made you better. Yeah right.

You planned so many activities for the kids you barely had time to think about anything - including your wedding planning commitments. You had venues to visit, you had cakes to taste and a rehearsal dinner to plan. You decided to throw yourself into that too.

You walked through the grocery store slowly, it was early enough in the day that it was still relatively empty. Your mind bouncing from one trivial thing to the next, going over your list, reminding yourself to do a load of laundry when you get home.

Maybe I'll make pork chops tonight, I really have to clean out the fridge.

It starts out as a prickle across your skin, heavy eyes on you; tracking you through the grocery store. You try to find the source but you can’t so you try to focus on the aisle in front of you. What did you need again?

Peanut butter - that’s right- but it doesn’t go away, it persists until you’re slightly alarmed and you don’t know why.

Your phone dings then and when you check your heart races- it’s Dave.

I want you.

There’s no preamble and you can’t deal with this right now, you can’t just drop everything whenever he messages you; so you ignore it. You’re busy.

When you go to pay the feeling hasn’t gone away, there is something at play here and it’s making you uncomfortable, enough to rush out to your car and look out for your surroundings when you hastily shove your bags into the trunk of your car.

“Why did you ignore me baby?” His voice startles you as you’re closing the trunk. Was it him that had you so keyed up?

“Dave… what are you doing here?” You were a little relieved that it was him, but only a little.

“I came to do some groceries, saw you and texted but you didn’t answer. If I didn’t know better I’d think you were ignoring me, but you aren’t right honey?” He moved closer to you, pinning you with his gaze. There was something cold in his eyes but you felt the arousal burning in your belly regardless.

You’d never know why, but there were warning bells going off in your brain; they were screaming at you to get away as fast as you could but he was staring at your lips and your legs wouldn’t move.

“No, I was just busy. I c-can’t just drop…” your back was curving to get away from him but there was nowhere to go. “I cannot just drop everything when you message me David. I have a life.” You put a little steel into your voice. You were in the middle of the grocery store parking lot for goodness sake.

He didn’t say anything, as he put his hands on your waist - grabbing onto you when he dipped his head to place a chaste kiss on your exposed collar bone. It flustered you and you had to bite the soft sigh but it came out anyway. You were lost then.

He led you to the backseat of your car and opened the door, sitting you inside with your legs still outside the car. The words were at the back of your throat, stuck behind your molars, coming forth to the tip of your tongue but never further. Your mind tried desperately to rebel, to shake you like an unruly child and snap you out of your madness but your body was pliable, changeable to his proverbial wind.

Instead you sat with him crouched in front of you just outside the car - his hands undoing your jeans and bringing them down along with your panties to leave you bare to anyone who happened to look inside your car. It was exhilarating and terrifying the way you let this man expose you this way.

“This pretty little pussy has been on my mind since our special weekend.” you could only open your legs slightly with your jeans around your knees. Enough for him to glide his fingers along your puffy lips, your arousal just bleeding through your folds. You watched him touch you, your body doing absolutely nothing to stop him. “It’s mine isn’t it?” He asked and you vaguely registered yourself nodding as you swallowed the lump in your throat.

“Look how hard you make me baby, constantly craving this wet cunt.” You could see the heft of him when he palmed himself. The outline of his dick pronounced enough to make you groan. He leaned forward to taste you, parting your seam with his tongue, gliding it against your clit. You moaned out and ran your fingers through his hair, the rest of the world and your surroundings forgotten with the action. He couldn’t get enough, pushing his face harder into your mound to get deeper but it wasn’t enough.

Instead he told you to move into the car so he could sit in your backseat, moving your driver's seat up to make room for his legs and you rushed to obey.

That was the word wasn’t it? That’s what you make me do, obey.

The thought came to you but it almost felt like it was someone else in your mind - explaining it to you as you struggled to get at least one leg free from the confines of your jeans. When he finally sat in the backseat you frantically pulled at his zipper, grasping his cock in your hand and lowering yourself onto him as quickly as you could.

You shared a groan when he was fully sheathed by your wet heat. He bucked up quickly, the both of you so close already; the knowledge that anyone could look in and see you riding him at any time only served to make you leak onto his lap. It made his cock twitch to think that you wanted him enough to let him take you like this - out in the open.

You were just as frantic as you rolled your hips, your fingers clutching at his shirt, his hair, his shoulders; whatever you could reach. His hand snaked up and he wrapped it around your throat, applying the barest amount of pressure and you moaned.

“Fuck baby, you like this? Does my good girl like when I grab her throat?” He squeezed a little and your body answered him by dripping more arousal onto his lap. Your cunt definitely liked it.

“Look at how wet you get, fuck. Are you mine baby?” He asked as he put a little more force into his movements. His feet were planted firmly as he bucked up, you moaned a yes daddy as he held you tightly. “Rub your clit, make yourself cum on my big dick.” He moaned into your ear and once again you obeyed. When your pussy fluttered with your orgasm his thrusts became erratic along with his words. Ramblings about owning you, about you never being able to get rid of him, words whispered fervently onto your skin as he painted your insides with his release.

You came to your senses before he did and you wanted to get dressed.

“I have to go Dave let me get dressed.” You tried to get off him but he held you tightly.

“What if I don’t want you to go? What if I want you to sit on my cock all day? Keep it warm for me.” He was kissing your neck, pulling your shirt down to kiss the tops of your breasts.

“Stop David, I have to go home and so do you. Playtime is over.” You were getting a little braver now that the fog of lust had cleared. He looked at you then and any softness was gone - his eyes grew cold and his hand came to your throat again.

“You said this pussy is mine. Were you lying?” His hand held your throat possessively and you felt him hardening inside you once more.

“What are you talking about? When we fuck you own me, but outside of this I have a life, I’ll be married soon and you have your wife and kids. This cannot continue no matter how much I enjoy it. You know that right? We have to be realistic here.” His eyes narrowed in a way that you didn’t recognize, he had a faraway look and you had to bring him back to you. “I meant what I said before. No one has ever made me feel the way you do, no one has ever fucked me the way you do and I lose my mind around you but you have to know it cannot continue.” You gently pulled his hand away from your throat, and kissed him as softly as you could. You were chasing the comfort he usually gave you.

For a moment it seemed like he wouldn’t be swayed, but what you soon realized was that you affected him just as much as he affected you. You pulled him close, whimpering into his mouth. There was a heady feeling in the power you felt, at being the one to calm him and you took it as far as you could.

“You know it’s yours daddy, my pussy is only for you. We had a lot of fun, you made me cum so hard. I’m going to be feeling your cock for hours. So big and hard inside me.” You kissed his neck, relishing the feeling of his dick twitching at your words. His hands held you almost violently, as if he couldn't get you close enough.

“It is mine isn’t it.” He spoke into your neck, making you bounce on him again, chasing the friction so he could cum again.

The second time was slower, you were fucking him now. Your hips a slow grind on his cock, his cum and your arousal making it so slippery, so much better. He was whining into your neck and you felt so fucking powerful. You weren’t thinking about the implications of your actions. You weren’t thinking how he would perceive this as your admittance to his ownership over you.

You didn’t realize the mistake you were making.

“It’s mine, you’re mine baby- tell me - fuck - tell me you’re mine.” He groaned the words.

“I’m yours, only yours. My cunt, my tits - my body. Yours all yours.” You whimpered as you came again, clamping down on his cock almost painfully tight. It triggered his own release and as you sat there slowly stroking each other, he was calculating his next move.

——————

You didn’t think about the interaction much, your ability to compartmentalize this part of you - the part you willingly gave to him should have shocked you; but even that was tucked away. When you were home with Charlie - it was a daydream. You never actually did those things? You didn’t open your legs like a whore every time Dave looked at you- that had to be someone else.

It was easy to be distracted with the rehearsal dinner coming up, the two of you finally agreeing on a really nice restaurant downtown. It felt better to have the invitations sent, felt like you were finally doing something to contribute to your own wedding. It made you guilty to think you’d barely done anything in that department but say yes. Charlie had taken care of all of the arrangements up until now, that had to change.

---

You should have felt guilty that all you could think of while you got ready for the rehearsal dinner was the fact that Dave hadn’t reached out since the morning in the parking lot. You should have been relieved, the... indiscretion had run its course and now you were where you were supposed to be. With Charlie… Right?

You could hear him rummaging in the closet, his movements becoming more and more erratic and his voice was rising.

“Babe - have you seen my tie? I could have sworn I hung it with my suit but it’s gone.” He looked through his garment bag furiously and you took pity. You assumed it must have fallen somewhere but you were soon sharing his frustration. It was nowhere to be found.

It was too late to do anything about it now, he wore another tie and you quickly made your way towards the restaurant.

It was nice to see everyone there, you had reserved a few tables near the back and your wedding party and close family had all come out to celebrate the two of you. Charlie was in a good mood, his hand finding a way to touch you and keep you close. The slithering thing however - raged. It was thrashing and screaming inside you, seeking out Dave as you drank your wine. You imagined how it would have been if you’d been marrying him instead. You imagined him meeting your family - your mother might have thought you were a bit young for him. Your father might have been impressed that he was well established, a secure job - a good future for you. You could almost feel his hand gripping your thigh under the table - whispering filth into your ear as you tried to eat.

“I’d let that man crack me open like a walnut.” Your best friend and maid of honour broke you out of your daydream to point out a man walking with his family towards a table not far from yours. Had he heard your thoughts? It felt like your stomach fell out of your body when his dark eyes locked on yours.

“Oh god.” It came out involuntarily. Your friend took it as an agreement to her statement.

“Right? What a dilf.” She was swooning - he was so fucking handsome.

Alice caught sight of you then and waved excitedly. You gave her a small wave back.

“You know him?” Your friend grabbed your arm excitedly.

“Yes - that’s my student Alice, her parents Carol and Dave.” It felt wrong to say his name out loud. Like everyone would know all the things you’d done once it was out in the air. You saw Carol smile at you then - saying something to Dave whose eyes had never left yours. Your blood ran cold when they walked over to your table.

“Hello Mr. and Mrs. York, how’s your evening going?” You smiled as naturally as you could when they each shook your hand. Both of them smiled and made small talk.

“Hey babe who’s this?” Charlie came over and put his hand on the small of your back.

“Mr. and Mrs. York - this is my fiance Charlie. Charlie, these are the parents of my student Alice.” He shook hands with Carol, and then David. You could feel the flush creeping up your neck seeing them shake hands.

“Please, call me David - I feel like I know your fiance so well - Alice talks about her all the time.” He smiled, the very picture of friendliness. Charlie was all smiles.

My little golden retriever. The slithering thing was cruel tonight.

David smiled at you, while Carol prattled on about what a lovely couple you were - how gorgeous your children would be and how excited she was for you. David smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. You could see the cracks in it, especially as Charlie tucked you into his side.

When the incredibly awkward meeting was over and you were sitting with your maid of honour again she was reeling, asking you questions about Dave. You had to gently remind her - and yourself - that he was married.

“Yes yes I know - but it’s fun to imagine right? God I bet he has a big dick. I just know he does. Would probably fuck you into the mattress, look at those hands.” She was almost drooling and you really couldn’t blame her. You knew the truth.

As the night went on you were getting more and more flustered as you felt David's eyes on you, he was suffocating you. What the fuck were the odds that he would be here tonight? You thought he might have done it on purpose but that would be insane. How could he possibly know? There was no logical way the knowledge could have gotten back to him. You briefly thought about him surprising you at the grocery store; just a coincidence, right?

You had to get away all of a sudden. With everyone enjoying themselves, with the wine flowing along with the conversation it was easy to slip away to the bathroom. You weren’t alone for long though, someone knocked on the door and kept knocking no matter how many times you said it was busy so you hurried to finish, not wanting to hold up the line.

David pushed you back in when you opened the door and before you could register what was happening he was kissing you. If anyone had asked you later on you would have denied it, but you were just as frantic.

You pulled at his hair and yanked him closer, and then somewhat came to your senses after the initial passion. You were in the bathroom at your wedding rehearsal dinner.

“David - stop, we can’t. I have to get back - Carol and Charlie…” He was hiking up your dress as you spoke and although your words said one thing, your actions said another. You were helping him, opening his belt and pulling down his pants to wrap your hand around his cock.

“Charlie?” His tone was mocking as he ripped your underwear, almost burning your thigh with the force of it. You moaned -

Charlie doesn’t make me feel like this. You couldn’t even summon up the guilt, not with how you were dripping, glossy and wet for him. Not with how hard his cock was for you - not with how he rubbed it through your folds as he hiked your leg high on his hip.

“Charlie doesn’t make you this wet does he baby, doesn’t fuck this wet little pussy like daddy does” He wasn’t gentle, he buried himself to the hilt and it knocked the air out of you. He held onto your throat with one hand as he snapped his hips forward hard and fast, your cunt practically sucking him in. His hand tightened slightly when you didn’t answer him.

“No, no he - fuck - no he doesn’t.” His pace was bruising, it was rough and you didn’t want it to stop. It wasn’t enough for him though.

“You have to remember who this fucking pussy belongs to… I’m going to make you cum while Charlie is outside. You’re going to feel me while you’re with him.” He pulled out and you whimpered, he stood off to the side and put your leg on the toilet then he slid two fingers into your swollen cunt, curling them and hitting that spongy spot with a brutal speed. The pressure was so intense you couldn’t even scream.

“There it is - going to squirt for me?” He was whispering in your ear as his hand almost blurred between your legs. You left your body as you felt the wet gush of your orgasm. It was all over the floor and dripping down your legs.

If he wasn’t holding you, you would have slid down the wall.

“That’s it, what a good girl.” He was back between your legs, slamming himself back into you - your arousal wetting his pant legs but he didn’t care. “Open your fucking mouth.” He snarled into your face, his hand ever present at your throat and you did. He spit into it - “Swallow.” You felt depraved, you felt disgusting, you were wetter than you’d ever fucking been and if he stopped you would have died.

His thrusts were becoming more and more erratic.

“I’m going to cum in this pretty mouth, and then you’re going to kiss Charlie.” He pulled out and you scrambled to get onto your knees. He held you by the hinge of your jaw and stroked himself onto your tongue. You swallowed as much as you could, reaching up to catch whatever dripped out.

“Kiss him when you get to the table, daddy’s watching.” he spoke calmly as he put himself away. He didn’t even bother washing his hands before he slipped out; leaving you to clean up the mess.

---

You looked in the mirror when he left and it was like you were looking at a stranger. Who was this woman looking back at you? With the red marks on her neck, with the ruined underwear that had to be thrown out. Red knees and lips.

That’s you, that’s always been you

The slithering thing was sated and happy, basking in the afterglow of the violent orgasm Dave had ripped from you.

No one noticed you when you went back to your table, the red lips were assumed to be wine stains. The red flush the alcohol. David’s eyes bored into you as you kissed Charlie, terrified he’d know but he didn’t. The slithering thing cheered while you wilted, your conscience finally convincing you that this might have gotten out of control.

The guilt was building and building as they came to say goodbye, Carol congratulating you once more and David shaking Charlie’s hand.

“It’s so funny, I didn’t notice before but I was going to wear a tie just like that tonight.” Charlie was smiling. Even the slithering thing stilled - no longer celebrating as a terrifying thought crept into your mind.

“What a coincidence.” David smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

---

There was an impenetrable fog that obscured every and all thought. A cumulonimbus cloud thick enough to swim through. It covered everything in a gauzy haze and made it so difficult to focus on anything; it caused basic tasks to be completed almost instinctively.

You got home, but didn’t remember how. You took a shower, washed your face. You were in bed with Charlie; comfortable in clean pyjamas and yet still, you couldn’t understand how.

Had David broken into your apartment somehow? Getting into the building - unfortunately - wouldn’t be too hard you could understand that. He could charm his way in, or happen to catch someone as they walked out but how did he get into your unit? Your locks still worked. Neither of you had come home to a broken down door.

How would he even know which unit was ours?

You kept going back and forth within your own mind, wrestling yourself with the logic of it. On the one hand, there was no fucking way he had done this. It was absolutely insane. David York did not break into your apartment just to steal your fiance’s tie. The implications of it were too big for you to handle. It would have meant that he knew about your rehearsal dinner, which logically speaking - he couldn’t. You hadn’t told him.

He would have had to know which day Charlie bought his suit and tie, which again - you knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t know that the dinner was scheduled for tonight and that it would be at that specific restaurant. Were you actually considering that he would somehow manage to find out all of this information and then proceed to use it by wearing the tie - he somehow manager to steal - just to fuck with you? You sighed heavily - thankful that Charlie was blessedly fast asleep.

You were then forced to consider the alternative, which was that he had done just that. Found a way to keep tabs on you. You thought back to all of your interactions with him, painstakingly running through the events through your mind to a time where he would have access to… to what? What could he possibly do? You knew he had some sort of office job. Government? Police? What did he even do? You were startled to realize you didn’t actually know.

The question remained, and multiplied - growing from simply how, to when? His only chance would have been when you were in his home, but even then - what could he have done, the two of you had been together, busy.

You fell asleep

The slithering thing whispered, seeming to make amends and changing its tune with the fear you felt now, along with arousal at the thought of Dave. You’d both been asleep though, hadn't you?

Your phone flashed then - a text message from your best friend - congratulating you and stating how excited she was about the wedding, about how hot that dad had been with some smiley faces. You looked at your phone curiously then. Could this be how?

All of the information about the dinner, about Charlie's shopping trip - it was all here. The invitations had been sent through email. Anyone with access to your phone would know all of the details Dave would have needed to do the things you were -only a little seriously- suspecting him of. It still begs the question though, how could he have access to your phone?

You didn’t fall asleep until very late, looking at your phone with fearful suspicion.

——

It was difficult to concentrate.

Even after a few days, your mind was still clouded with doubt; you didn’t know what to think. It was hard to quantify all of the implications of your mistake and at this point you had no idea what to do about it. There was no way out that wouldn’t be messy.

You never had a choice

When did the slithering thing start sounding like Dave?

The startling realization hit you then, you’d never had any control over the situation; he had successfully invaded every part of you.

The situation had become so dire, so panic-inducing that Charlie had taken notice of your far off expression. You were unusually quiet, lost in thought and guilt alike more often than not.

You tried to reassure him that it was just stress, not getting enough sleep, anxiety over the upcoming wedding but you knew he imagined it was cold-feet. You were ashamed to admit that maybe it was. Maybe after all this, this taste of the forbidden fruit had soured everything else.

Charlie’s optimism became naivety. His willingness to compromise had become a weakness. Dave had poisoned every aspect of your life, ruining you for other men and for what? He’d made you no promises, no assurances of what would happen as a result of your indiscretion but he demanded everything from you; no regard for your life.

The worst part was you knew all of this, you were well aware of exactly what his terms were and you took it with your greedy little hands and your greedy little cunt.

You have no one to blame but yourself

—-

One week until the wedding

Things hadn’t gotten better.

The cure for a guilty conscience however, in your opinion, was working yourself to the point of exhaustion. Throwing every ounce of energy into teaching your class, activities and creative exercises left no room for Dave.

The side effect however was no better, Charlie hovered - borderline berating you for working too hard. You vaguely wondered to yourself if you wanted Charlie to catch you. Maybe he didn’t pay as much attention to you as he should have, maybe you should have been paying more attention to him?

No - this was your guilty conscience trying to deflect your abhorrent behaviour; this was the slithering thing changing it’s tactic by turning you against Charlie. The truth was that Charlie was giving you the benefit of the doubt, he was convinced that this was all pre-wedding jitters which to be fair, it should have been.

---

Five days until the wedding.

You should have been finalizing plans. You should have been excited and jittery and planning your honeymoon - which you hadn’t. You hadn’t said a word about the upcoming ceremony, and if Charlie brought it up you quickly changed the subject.

“I spoke to the florist, everything is all set. All we have to do now is show up.” He said it almost tentatively. Approaching the subject like a bomb technician. You responded with an mhm as you flitted around the kitchen, gathering your supplies for the school day.

“Babe, are you okay?” He faced you head on now, a little grown on his face.

“Of course, just running late.” You didn’t look him in the eye and while this would have worked a few weeks ago, it didn’t today.

“Stop, give me a second- please.” He stood in front of you, holding you by your shoulders so you were forced to confront him. “I’m not sure what’s going on, whether it’s stress from work, or nervous about the wedding but i'm here, it’s me, it’s us.” He was holding you, trying to connect with you on the same level you’d always been connected to each other but there was a wall; it’s name is David.

“Charlie, I’m fine. It’s all good - I’m stressed from work and this whole big wedding thing is giving me anxiety and frankly I don’t have time for this.” You gently pulled away from him, and much to your annoyance - he let you go, sighing heavily.

“You know I love you right?” His voice pulled at your heart, for a moment you were yourself- remembering the sweet boy that made you laugh. The lovely man in front of you who did everything he could to make you happy - but then you imagined David. He wouldn’t have taken no for an answer.

“Yes, I know - I love you too. Everything will be fine I promise.” You kissed him quickly as you ran out the door.

-----

Four days until the wedding

You stared at your phone while you waited for the steady trickle of parents, you wanted to smooth things over with Charlie but you didn’t know how to. Worst of all you didn’t actually know whether or not you even wanted to at this point. The thoughts jumbled together maddeningly before being interrupted by the soft knock from the first set of parents for the night. It went smoothly, until it was Carol's turn.

When Carol York walked into your classroom your heart fell into your stomach.

She sat and chatted with you, asking about the wedding and your fiance. It was difficult not to feel awkward - not with all of the truly filthy things you'd let her husband do to you. You studied her while she prattled away about Alice’s grades and home life. Her wedding ring drew your attention first, it was ostentatious. A huge rock on her delicate finger - her bag was designer, so were her shoes.

What does she do? What does David do?

You let her talk, trying to subtly gain some insight into her psyche - maybe you were trying to understand why David was so relentless in his pursuit of you. Maybe you wanted to compare yourself to this woman.

“What do you do Mrs York?” You asked her, trying not to jump onto the subject of her husband right away.

“Oh please, call me Carol! I work for a design firm, mostly commercial buildings and offices. Corporate design you could say.” She smiled, so friendly; you wondered whether it was blissful ignorance or a mutual understanding that it was all for show that kept her and David together. Neither one would have been preferable.

“That’s lovely, and what about Mr. York - what does he do?” If your face had given anything away, she didn’t mention it.

“Oh David works for the government. It’s all terribly bureaucratic and boring. I swear though sometimes it’s like the man works for the CIA with how secretive he can be about his work, like I need to know everything that happens. An office is an office and they’re all the same aren’t they?” Her laugh was soft.

Blissful ignorance the slithering thing decided.

You thought about her a lot after she left, lingering on Davids job and what he could have access to. Was he really CIA? That was a slightly terrifying thought.

Your thoughts circled back around however and the truth of the matter was that neither Carol or Charlie deserved to be treated this way. The knock at the door startled you - your head snapping up to see who was here. The school had been empty with Carol being your last appointment.

“How was the meeting with my wife?” Dave was leaning against the door frame.

Your stomach dropped.

“What are you doing here? Carol just left - did you see her in the parking lot?” The audacity of this man was perplexing, how could he show up here and risk his wife seeing him.

“I saw her leave, she didn’t see me.” He walked over to you but you held your ground - looking up into his handsome face. The shame hit you like a bolt of lightning when he looked into your eyes, it hit you because all of the contemplating - all of the regret and the shame at having done all you had went right out the window.

“So where does Carol think you are right now?” You had to know.

“Same place Charlie thinks you are. At work.” He couldn’t keep the mocking tone out of his voice when saying Charlie's name. It was curious that he could seemingly hate Charlie - he was just your Carol.

“What do you do?” The question bubbled out of your mouth almost of its own volition and you saw his eyes narrow slightly.

“I work for the government.” He didn’t elaborate and his expression said the matter was closed. You had an awful feeling in the pit of your stomach along with the all too familiar ache of arousal his very presence seemed to inspire.

“I’m curious.” You didn’t think you could say more than that, there was a voice in the back of your mind, quieter than the slithering thing but much stronger.

Don’t ask too many questions - he won’t like that

You listened.

“I missed you baby, didn’t you miss me?” The flip had switched when you backed off, this was what he was here for. You couldn't lie to him.

“Yes - I did.” You stared up at him, at his mouth. The plush bottom lip you liked to bite because it made him groan. The tawny skin of his neck - it made you want to stand up on your tippy toes to kiss him there.

“What are you thinking about?” It came out almost playful, was it so obvious?

“Your neck.” There was no point in lying to him. “I want to kiss it.” Your body carried you closer to him and he made space for you in his arms, hugging you close to him. This was uncharacteristic of him. This kind of comfort usually came after he’d wrung every ounce of pleasure and decency from you and it felt so intimate. It felt more vulgar because he was showing how he felt about you. How he wanted to feel about you.

You couldn’t help but notice how good he smelled. How your face fit perfectly into the crook of his neck. Even though the knowledge that this could not last, this could not end well, this was the best part. Feeling close to him and even more so - feeling wanted by him.

Utterly enveloped by him.

The mood shifted however as it always does when in his presence, and now his face was in the crook of your neck. Seeking out your warmth and your scent and your skin.

“I’ve missed you so much - think about you constantly.” He spoke between fervent kisses that burned you. “Think about your mouth, your tits, your sweet little cunt and I get so hard for you baby.” He was leaving a blazing path with his mouth. His words searing you just as ardently.

“Tell me, tell me how much you want me.” You needed to hear it, maybe it would all be worth it, the pain and the destruction this would invariably cause in your life as well as his. All would be worth it because he wanted you so badly.

“I want you so much, every minute of every day. I can’t focus, I have to have you. You belong to me.” He was crowding you, his hands seeking out every part of you available to him and he pushed you onto your desk to stand between your legs.

The heat was in your belly now, spreading from your skin into your blood and running through your veins. His words were a forest fire and you couldn’t control it so you let yourself burn for him. Your cunt was weeping and you needed to hear more - everything. You needed him to tell you everything, all of the thoughts, all of the suspicions and the fear were lost when he touched you like this. In these moments with him none of it mattered. Nothing mattered.

“I think about you too, keep telling me- please.” You yanked him by his hair to taste him, forestalling your request by licking into this mouth - as if wanting to taste the truth in his words. He pulled at your leggings and your underwear all at once, leaving you bare for him.

“This pussy owns me as much as I own it, I want to see it dripping in me. My cum sliding out of it - I have to taste it.” He kneeled in front of you and seeing him looking up at you through dark lashes and hooded, lust blown eyes was almost too much. The slick pooled at your entrance and he groaned at the sight of it.

You could feel the flush creeping up your chest at the way he looked up at you. It was almost blasphemous the way he devoured you. His hands were insistent in the way he held your thighs open for him, draping them over his shoulders. You imagined what you looked like then, with your legs spread for him, your heels digging into his back as you ground your hips into the wet heat of his mouth.

He sucked your clit into his mouth and you almost screamed, the coil in your belly winding itself tighter and tighter as he forcibly dragged you over the edge and into oblivion. He hummed onto your skin as he slid two thick fingers into your silken heat. The stretch of his fingers pumping in that maddening rhythm with the wet glide of his tongue over and over and over- It was too much and you grabbed at his hair violently as your orgasm flooded out of you and into his mouth.

—-

Two days until the wedding.

You were meant to finalize a few things today and Charlie had left early in the morning, mentioning a last minute errand he had to run. That had been hours ago and he hadn’t even called.

There was a knock at your apartment door - Charlie must have forgotten his keys again.

“David, what are you doing here?” You felt the colour drain from your face. He pushed his way inside the apartment.

“I needed to see you.” His voice was level but the bile was rising in your throat. Charlie could walk in at any moment.

“David, now is not the time and this is definitely not the place - how did you know where I lived…?” The hairs on the back of your neck were standing on end - his job came to your mind unbidden. He didn’t answer you.

“I need to touch you, I need to fuck you in your bed - in Charlie’s bed.” He had a violent glint in his eye and it startled you just as much as it aroused you.

“Are you crazy? David..” He crashed his lips into yours, giving you no choice.

You wanted to fight him, you wanted to push him away and demand the answers you needed, but you didn’t. You never fought him. Instead you wrapped your arms around his neck to get closer. You sighed into his mouth when his tongue plundered yours.

“Take your fucking clothes off now, be good for daddy.” The words almost came out in a growl and you almost ripped them in your haste to obey, the shirt and bra you had been wearing were now a discarded heap on the floor. Your leggings were wrenched down leaving everything but your calves exposed to his touch. He turned you around roughly and pushed your face into your dining room table, your ass on display for him while he undid his belt.

This was how Charlie found you. Naked and panting for a fully clothed man.

“What the fuck?” His voice wasn’t angry, he was too confused for that. His brain hadn’t registered the scene in its entirety until you were scrambling to get your pants up. Apologizing and telling him it wasn’t what he thought it was, which was a lie. It was exactly what he thought it was.

You were about to get fucked by someone else, in your shared apartment, two days before your wedding.

“This whole time, I thought it was nerves. How could you do this to me? Who the fuck are you?” He spoke to you and Dave and while you tried to explain, tried to get your bra back on - David was silent.

Charlie stormed out before you could do anything and David told you to get dressed, that he would go after him.

You had your bra back on, and were just about to run out the door when David burst through your apartment.

“Call an ambulance. Now.”

----

“You say you were both going to grab some lunch and he fell down the stairwell?” The detective was talking to David who had you tucked into his side, a hand rubbing your back in what he imagined was a soothing gesture.

“That’s right, he slipped and fell when we were making our way down. His shoelace must have been untied.” He didn’t even flinch.

You said nothing while David spoke, but you tried to communicate silently to the detective that something was wrong but he barely looked at you. David had handled everything and you knew then that there was nothing to be done. When the interview came to an end, the detective shook his hand, told you how sorry he was and that they would release the body back to you soon.

All you could do was think about all the time David had said you belonged to him. How he would never let you go, and now the only thing keeping you from him was gone.

You were all his.

---------------------------

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#dave york x reader #dave york #dave york x you #suburban murder daddy #dave york pit #dave york fanfic #equalizer 2 #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #dave york x f!reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader

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yeah-klave · 4 years ago

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Play me

Summary: Klaus is uptight and nervous so Dave offers to finger the stress out of him.

Genre: Smut.

A/N: This is set in a Dave Didn’t Die AU. He and Klaus made it back to 2019 (somehow) where they’re now living happily ever after.

Word length: 1.8k

Warning: Adult content (18+ only please), hand jobs, anal fingering and mentions of Reggie’s sub-par parenting.

Requested: Yes (The same request for a dialogue drabble came through twice, so I decided to write this one out in full.)

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of The Umbrella Academy characters or settings.

*****************************************************

Klaus paced up and down the living room.

“I can’t believe I let Luther talk me into going to this stupid ‘meet the significant others’ dinner with dad.” Klaus exclaimed for perhaps the tenth time.

From his place on the sofa, Dave looked over the top of his book and watched Klaus pacing, pulling at his long hair distractedly.

Dave decided to bait him. “Are you really that embarrassed about introducing me to your father?”

Klaus turned to him, and with a deadpan expression replied, “Yes, absolutely. I’m embarrassed at the idea of introducing my handsome, intelligent, polite, kind, generous, all round much-better-than-I-deserve boyfriend to my sorry excuse of a father.” He paused for a second, a mock thoughtful expression on his face, then added, “Oh, no, wait!”

Dave grinned, “Well, I don’t see what all the fuss is about then.”

Klaus sighed and waved his arms dramatically.

“Dav-veuh,” he whined. “I’m not embarrassed about you! I’m embarrassed about him!”

“Well, still,” Dave added calmly. “I don’t see why you’re getting your frilly little panties in a bunch.” He caught Klaus’ eye and winked. “We both know you look much prettier in them then they’re un-bunched.”

“But… but…” Klaus spluttered, waving his arms and resuming his pacing. “But he’s so… mean! And he’s always – always – pointing out all my flaws and failings and weaknesses…”

“Klaus, sweetheart, you know I don’t care what he says, right? Nothing anybody could say would be able to change how I feel about you. I already know about all your weird shit and I’m still here. ” Dave paused, then added, “Also, you don’t have any flaws!” He caught Klaus’ eye again and raised an eyebrow, “Maybe a few… personality quirks. But you already know I love all of them. So there.” He smiled sweetly.

Klaus paused. “Oh, Davey,” he said forlornly, tilting his head to the side and looking at him with pity and affection in his large, green eyes. “You’re just too nice to be allowed. He’s going to eat you alive.”

Dave barked a laugh and Klaus huffed and continued pacing, tugging at his hair and muttering to himself. Dave caught a few phrases: no idea what he’s letting himself in for… stupid Luther and his stupid paternal approval issues… not even hungry anyway…

Dave sighed and shook his head fondly. “Klaus, sugarplum, you’re getting stuck in your head again. Come back to me please.”

Klaus wheeled around again and exclaimed in frustration, “Dave! I’m about to lead you into the lion’s den and you don’t even seem to care! It’s kind of hard not to get stuck in my head right now!”

Dave nodded, thinking, then added slowly, “Well, do you think, before we go to the lion’s den… I was just wondering… Do you need me to finger you first?”

Klaus froze, blinking rapidly.

Dave carried on. “You just seem so tense and wound up. And I can’t imagine that’s the best mindset to have going into this dinner. So… it just sounds to me like… like you could use a good fingering.”

Klaus blinked again. “Well that escalated quickly.”

Dave grinned and gave a laugh. “Yep.” He said, popping the p. “Now grab the lube, drop you pants and come and sit here,” he said, patting his lap.

Klaus swallowed and meekly went to retrieve the lube from their bedroom. Dave grinned again, cracked his knuckles and spread his legs.

When Klaus returned with the bottle, he still looked a bit dazed, but as instructed, unzipped his flies and wiggled out of his tight, leather pants. He carefully placed one knee of either side of Dave’s hips, his pale thighs pressing into the denim of Dave’s jeans and delicately lowered himself into Dave’s lap.

Dave smiled again, placed his hands on the jut Klaus’ thin hips and leaned up, nuzzling their noses together. He caught Klaus’s mouth and kissed him softly, a sweet press and slide of lips. He ran his hands up Klaus’ sides, following the curve of his narrow waist until Klaus stopped holding himself quite so stiffly and melted into Dave’s arms. He opened his mouth and allowed Dave to push his tongue inside, setting off little frissons of pleasure up and down his spine. Klaus sighed into Dave’s mouth.

“See,” Dave said against Klaus’ lips. “Already much better. And we haven’t even really got going yet.” He tenderly brought one hand up to gently cup the side of Klaus’ face, brushing a thumb lovingly across one cheek. “Now, just sit back, relax, and try not to think about anything. I’m going to finger the stress right out of you.”

“You shouldn’t be able to make that sound sexy,” Klaus sighed, “but somehow you just did.” He leaned forwards, wrapped his arms around Dave’s shoulders and nuzzled his face into the crook of Dave’s neck, arching his back slightly to give Dave better access. Dave pressed a kiss to the top of Klaus’ head. He reached over, squeezed some lube onto his fingers, then reached his hand down between their bodies and with one fingertip gently started rubbing over Klaus’ hole.

Klaus gave a drawn-out sigh. “Oh God, you’re going to be a massive tease and draw this right out, aren’t you?” His exasperated voice was slightly muffled, but Dave could feel him smiling against his neck.

“You bet,” Dave smiled. “I am absolutely going to worship my favourite little rosebud.”

“Ridiculous romantic,” Klaus murmured.

“Klaus, sweetheart, I was talking about your asshole,” Dave grinned, and Klaus snorted a laugh.

Dave kept up the gently forwards and backwards rubbing over Klaus’ entrance, then switched up the motion and rubbed gently from left to right. Klaus sighed and threaded his fingers through the hair at the nape of Dave’s neck. Dave slowly started circling his finger around the rim. Klaus gave a little hum of pleasure, his cock now a hard press between them.

Dave continued with the teasing touches until Klaus was shifting restlessly in his lap, his hips twitching, desperately chasing more sensation. Dave took his hand away and Klaus whined in displeasure. Dave quickly reapplied lube to his fingers then brought his hand back down and slowly eased one finger inside and stopped moving. Klaus held his breath as Dave pushed inside, and once his finger was all the way in, let the breath out in a long, deep sigh. He arched his back luxuriously and let out a little hum of pleasure as it shifted Dave’s finger inside him. Dave gently pulled his finger almost all the way out, then slowly pushed it back in again.

“Mmm, Dave,” Klaus breathed into his neck.

Dave began pushing his finger in and out at a maddening slow pace.

“Oh, more please,” Klaus sighed.

On the next withdraw, Dave pulled all the way out and added a second finger to the next inward push. Klaus groaned again and shifted his hips.

After a few thrusts, Dave curled his fingers upwards and pressed against that little walnut bundle of nerves, dragging his fingertips around in a tight circular motion. He heard Klaus take a sharp intake of breath and felt his fingernails bite into the skin of Dave’s shoulders. Dave smiled and kept thrusting his fingers, making sure to hit the same spot on each inward push.

Dave could feel Klaus’ breathing start to pick up, his exhales coming in shallow little pants. Dave began to increase the pace of his fingers and Klaus moaned desperately against his neck.

Dave kept the firm rhythm going until Klaus was letting out involuntary little noises on every inward thrust. He could feel the tension in Klaus’s muscles as he brought him closer and closer to the edge. Klaus’ fingernails continued to press into the skin of Dave’s neck. Dave ran his other hand down the curve of Klaus’ back, pausing to rub the hollow at the base of his spine and then let it travel further to cup one round cheek and give a proprietary little squeeze. Klaus groaned and his hips twitched again.

“Dave…” Klaus sighed. “Dave, please…”

Dave brought his hand around and took told of Klaus’ firm length and began pumping his hand up and down in satisfyingly strong pulls, just the way he knew Klaus loved.

“Oooh!” Klaus gasped, “Oh, oh, yes. Dave! Aaah, yes!”

Klaus planted his hands on Dave’s shoulders and lifted his head. He leaned back and arched his spine, his narrow hips alternating between thrusting up into Dave’s hand and fucking himself back onto Dave’s fingers.

Dave raked his eyes over Klaus’ face, which was scrunched in pleasure, down the column of his neck and over his thin frame, tensed and taut as a bowstring, straddling Dave’s thighs.

“God, Klaus,” Dave whispered, “You’re so beautiful. So fucking beautiful. I love you so much.”

Klaus let out a high-pitched whine, his hips stuttered, his eyes screwed shut, the muscles of his lower abdomen tensed, his mouth opened in in a silent O of pleasure and he came on Dave’s fingers and all over his fist. Dave could feel Klaus contracting rhythmically around his fingers and he gently eased him through his orgasm until Klaus’ cock gave one last weak pulse, emitting a final dribble of cum, and Klaus sagged, going limp in Dave’s arms. Dave brought his arms around him, keeping him steady, while holding his hands stiffly away from his body, trying to avoid smearing him with lube and cum.

“Just cuddle me properly,” Klaus said into his neck. “I’m obviously going to have to have another shower before we set off now.”

Dave grinned and held onto him properly, running his hand up and down Klaus’ back comfortingly.

“Better?” Dave asked.

Klaus hummed and Dave smiled again into Klaus’ hair. After a beat Klaus added softly, “Much better actually.” He brought his head back up and looked at Dave and added, “Thank you.”

Dave leaned forwards and gave Klaus a chase little kiss. “You’re welcome,” he smiled softly. “It was my pleasure.”

“Yeah, about that,” Klaus grinned, his eyes twinkling, “Want to join me in the shower?”

Dave raised an eyebrow and made a point of pretending to look at his watch. “Well…” he said slowly, “we don’t want to be late for dear old Daddy now, do we?”

Klaus rolled his eyes and quirked his lips up in a grin. “So we’re a bit late... No biggie.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m already a huge disappointment to him, being on time isn’t going to change that. And anyway,” he said, leaning forwards and nuzzling his nose against Dave’s, “I know where my real priorities lie.”

#klave #klaus/dave #klaus x dave #klaus hargreeves #dave katz #the umbrella academy

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mymysticbouquet · 4 years ago

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Find on Amazon

Twenty-four stories of gay sex, gay love, gay mystery, gay fantasy, gay demons, gay science fiction, and gay transformations of gender. This book contains stories of alien invasion, reincarnation, murder and other crimes, emasculation, masturbation, switching gender, catamites, sodomites, romance, enforced chastity, humor, romance, nostalgia, interesting cures for toxic masculinity, retaliation against bullies, and over-the-top gay sex. In one tale, a man is transported to another dimension to compete in an inter-dimensional masturbation contest. In another, college boys employ a stolen militarized gay sex weapon against their former high school bullies. Several men are kidnapped by demons and carried to Hell where good times are had by all. There’s a story involving a male chastity device, a story about boys required to wear thong bottoms at all times, six gay mystery stories starring a promiscuous private investigator, and several enforced male emasculation stories. Then, of course, there are those wily space aliens who have their own plans for humanity, and human reproduction is not on their agenda.

The Business

For his obvious gayness, Bill Saroyan had been cruelly bullied in high school, particularly by his nemesis Rolf Dangler. Upon arriving in college, Bill joins the Uranus Club whose president has access to the military’s gay sex weapons, which can turn latent homosexuals fully gay. By then, Rolf has become the captain of the college’s swim team, so Bill proves that he can outswim Rolf and turns the tables on his former bullies.

Forgive Us Our Trespasses

Harry is a famous author, but his partner and lover Bradley is subject to occasional violent fits. After one of Bradley’s irrational moments, Harry takes a walk that grows increasingly surreal. Returning home, he finds Bradley murdered and himself arrested. This story was a finalist in the 2020 Saints and Sinners Fiction Contest and printed in Saints+Sinners: New Fiction from the Festival, Edited by Tracy Cunningham and Paul J. Willis. (Bold Strokes Books, April 2020)

Thinking of Him Always

Clark is a elderly gay man romanticizing his first love, Davy, an amoral scalawag. As was true of many gay males in 1978, Clark must conquer his internalized homophobia, find his bliss, and turn away from a toxic relationship.

You’re Next

A demon transports college English professor Larry Tarr to Hell where Satan opens Larry to his slutty nature, and he learns the truth of his satanic ancestry.

Locked in the Zero

A gay hotel manager and supporter of his community, Peter awakens one morning to find himself hungover and sick with flu. However those afflictions pale when he discovers that his cock has been mysteriously enclosed in an unbreakable male chastity device. As all attempts at removing permanent cock cage fail, Peter must unravel the mystery of who inflicted this torture upon him and why.

The Upsilon Incursion

After the Upsilons invade and assume control of Earth, they establish laws against procreation. Men are summoned to Espollo, the floating city in the sky, for genital mounding. However, when Roy’s appointment date arrives, he discovers that the Upsilons have a different plan for him. The aliens have discovered that they are allergic to human females, which has left them sexually frustrated. Thus Roy is included in a select group of males for an experiment to transform them into adequate vessels for Upsilon lusts.

Demons Can Be Tricky

Tristan’s Satan-worshiping grandmother had warned him against summoning demons, but Tristan hopes to bind a demon into giving him a larger dick. But when Lord Dantalion appears in Tristan’s ritual circle, the demon convinces Tristan that he can fix the mortal’s short-dick problem only if he is released. Tristan falls for the demon’s trickery, and after being butt-fucked to death, ends up as the demon’s spouse in Hell. However, in the end, Tristan faces a bright and productive future in service to the Great Beast. The moral of this comic story is that when you make a request of a demon, it pays to be specific.

The Flirtatious Twist Mysteries

In The Flirtatious Twist Mysteries, (“The Green Wrapper Case,” “The Government Truck Affair,” “The Dead Redhead Problem,” “The Japanese Garden Situation,” “The Orange Juice Caper,” & “The Red Suitcase Business”) gay private detective Flirtatious Twist solves six weirdly bizarre mysteries. In each case, written with tongue in cheek, “Flirty” ends up having over-the-top gay sex with an attractive man involved in the case, a secret he keeps from his lover and partner Sparky.

Processed

For some reason, when space aliens invade Earth, their first inclination is to put an end to human reproduction. Ritchie is a college student, living with his sister Denise and her husband while attending Portland State University. In early April, Denise receives a summons to report to Benevolence Hospital for processing. Mystified, she goes as ordered and returns a sexless being, indistinguishable from all other processed humans. Ritchie joins a resistance movement, but the rebels numbers are daily diminished as their processing dates arrive.

Into the Whirlwind

In this story of reincarnation, a soul experiences lifetime after lifetime in the bodies of gay men.

Postcards from the Orgy Deck

When Dave and his lover Bill embark on a gay cruise around the Caribbean, Dave’s sexual excesses and intoxicated behaviors are revealed in a series of post cards that lead to his downfall.

The Hand

Derek is an edger, a gooner, a pornosexual, a compulsive masturbator, who is dragged out of his mundane Earthly life by the gambler and promotor Mirdor and transported to the planet Asinel, the media giant of all the dimensions, to compete in an inter-dimensional masturbation contest. Masturbating without coming is the most popular sporting event in every galaxy and every dimension, with countless trillions of enthusiastic fans. Derek must compete against thirty-one other masculine beings, champion masturbators all, with the last “man” to ejaculate winning the grand prize.

Chillin’ for a Jillin’

The proceedings in this story are set shortly after the events related in David Holly’s novel I Shall Not Be Jilled. Claude and his friends attend a small, private high school in the Oregon Coast Range where Claude’s parents own a winery. Thus far the administrators of Maggie Fell High School have resisted the national jilling mandates, but the time has come when they can hold out no longer against the national emasculation movement.

The Lair of the Salt Demons

Hort and his friends are flying over Holy Devil Swamp when their scoot stick crashes. The men of the swamp, the so-called Salt Demons, rescue them, and three lucky Salt Demons select a boy to become his “pretty girl.” Hort is taken to Water Snake’s home where he becomes Water Snake’s lover while Water Snake trains him in the ways of the swamp.

Bradley’s Special Day

After the Radical Gynocracy gains control of all levels of government, the women promptly legislate the final solution to masculinity. Boys are required by law to begin measuring down in their sixteenth year. By the time any male turns seventeen, he must have popped his muff. Bradley’s special day is fast approaching, and he must find a way to cope with the regulations that outlaw his masculine appendages.

The Harvesting of Humanity

A world-wide pandemic is raging, while the government wages war against an alien race who came to save us. Tucker, a draftee, takes his platoon into battle only to be captured by the enemy. Shipped to the enemy’s home planet, Tucker and his cohort discover that they were selected because they were not of the breeder stock. Soon the so-called captives learn that they are honored guests of the aliens and that their earthly government was cruel, exploitive, and totalitarian.

Occom’s Razor

Some conclusions are obvious, so toxic masculinity must again be tossed on its head in a perverse twist on sexism. Markie lives in a sizzling-hot futuristic climate. Minimal dress is preferred, but human society creates demands. Each boy of a certain age is required by law to wear thong bottoms in public.

Fair Exchange

Alfrie, a farm boy just turned eighteen, is bartered by his parents to a money lender who wants a catamite. Alfrie’s parents find their son’s fate amusing, but Alfrie is hardly amused. Though filled with trepidation, Alfrie finds gay sex to his liking, and he gains urbane sophistication, business acumen, and social advancement. The plot thickens with many incidents of gay lovemaking, along with kidnapping, arson, murder, mutilation, and political shenanigans.

Not Another Minibate Story!

Myles is a student at an exclusive academy where the boys are told that they must measure down in order to conform to the new social norms. Myles and a friend attempt to escape their fate, but the tide of history is against them. Finally, Myles’ family sends him to Adjustment Camp where he can prepare for his future as a muff in an emasculated society. (Note: These male emasculation tales from the world of Minibate are a direct attack on the masculinist, penetrationist, militaristic, paternalistic, androcentric, protectionist ethos, and they offer a satire and social commentary on that conformist, uniformist culture.)

Find on Amazon

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purrfectstrangers · 4 years ago

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(Part 2) *The tip shoved her backwards onto the floor. Soon Gamzee was crouched over her, slowly lowering his clown cakes over her face. Meanwhile, Kurloz was getting into position, slowly crawling over Dave, letting his belly full of Egbert soup glorp as it pressed against him. Kurloz released a half burp once they were eye too eye, letting John's smell wash over him. The tip of his bulge shoves the balls aside, teasing the entrance of his virgin hole.* READY, STRIDER?

Nep gasped, the empty feeling inside her more than she bargained for. A lot of that sloppy, purple genslime splattered out onto the floor, making the room smell of cum... and flowers? It seemed whoever was just blasted into Nep's womb, which was still full to the brim with the hottest, thickest load she'd ever felt blown into her, had a more floral scent that Gamzee's thick cockmusk hadn't overwritten yet. Even with her nook dripping a puddle of olive and purple, she still felt heavy and knew most of it was clinging to her insides.

She felt his tip mash against her face, her eyes fluttering as she sniffed his humid musk off his fat, drippy cock. The scent of linen and something like evening mist was there too. Kanaya had gone a long way from Jade troll to purple cockfood it seemed. The idea that the cum inside her was once such an elegant troll, reduced to a sloppy mess, the gluey spunk a clown spurted into the womb of a musk-drunk, armpit licked kitty of lower blood... it made Nepeta moan and drool, making a blissed out face as Gamzee vandalized her olive tinted face with his skin-staining nut.

If it wasn't enough, that fat tip pressed her face back, and musk-drunk and dizzy, she fell easily onto the floor. She blinked, bleary eyed, as Gamzee moved over her. The soft light showed off the sheen of sweat on that fat ass, and Nep swore she felt drop fall against her bare skin. The air turned more and more humid as he got closer, until he sat, trapping her in his musky, sharp scent completely. Nep's bulge coiled and flexed, and one of her hands shot up to grip one of those wet cheeks. Her other hand was busy. Running along the floor, the collected the clown's still-warm spunk, and when she had a nice handful, she gripped her bulge, stroking it and slathering it in Gamzee's color. It was the soon as stained as her nook.

Between those cheeks, Gamzee felt her taking deep breaths, sniffing and gasping. Her moans and needy grunts were muffled by inches and inches of ass fat. Still, she managed to slip deeper into the clown's utterly soaked asscrack, and dragged her tongue across his purple asshole before pressing her lips to it in a loving, reverant kiss.

Legs pinned up, his knees almost touching his face, Dave reached down to mash Kurloz's glorpy, gurgling gut. He felt something break, biting his lips as he wondered if he'd just snapped John's glasses frames. Even knowing that he didn't stop, worshiping the huge clown's belly as it worked his best friend into so much fat and waste.

He looked into Kurloz's eyes as the purpleblood leaned down. They were commanding, mesmerizing, and just as sure as he thought he might fall into them, he heard a wet gurlgle, and a hot belch blew over his face. The acrid scent of digestion and John's personal flavor washed over him. It was hard to resist that kind of predatory dominance, especially as a soft furred prey species. Nep's voice faded in the background, and Dave felt like he was utterly alone with Kurloz, trapped, caught, and there was no escape. The rush truly came when he felt that unbelievable girth tease his cunny. He was already sopping wet, and just that one poke, the throbs he could feel, and the knowledge that his pussy fur and balls were likely stained purple, all made him realize that even if he could escape the cliwn bearing down on him, he would never want to.

Taking a deep breath, the room filled with the scent of sex and cum, sweat, and acrid digestion of people he knew, Dave steeled himself.

"Ready... Kurloz..." he said, more haltingly than he'd meant to. He wasn't, of course, but he needed to be taken too much to wait. His will was the property of this purple blood now, and there was no way Kurloz didn't know that.

#// for real gamzanon if you wanna like share discords or something i would love to xwx

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kvetchlandia · 8 years ago

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Dave Heath Poets Leroi Jones and Allen Ginsberg, 7 Arts Coffee Gallery, New York City 1959

Lately, I've become accustomed to the way The ground opens up and envelopes me Each time I go out to walk the dog. Or the broad edged silly music the wind Makes when I run for a bus...

Things have come to that.

And now, each night I count the stars. And each night I get the same number. And when they will not come to be counted, I count the holes they leave.

Nobody sings anymore.

And then last night I tiptoed up To my daughter's room and heard her Talking to someone, and when I opened The door, there was no one there... Only she on her knees, peeking into

Her own clasped hands

--Leroi Jones, “Preface to a 20 Volume Suicide Note” 1961

For Naomi Ginsberg, 1894-1956

Strange now to think of you, gone without corsets & eyes, while I walk on the sunny pavement of Greenwich Village. downtown Manhattan, clear winter noon, and I've been up all night, talking, talking, reading the Kaddish aloud, listening to Ray Charles blues shout blind on the phonograph the rhythm the rhythm--and your memory in my head three years after-- And read Adonais' last triumphant stanzas aloud--wept, realizing how we suffer-- And how Death is that remedy all singers dream of, sing, remember, prophesy as in the Hebrew Anthem, or the Buddhist Book of An- swers--and my own imagination of a withered leaf--at dawn-- Dreaming back thru life, Your time--and mine accelerating toward Apoca- lypse, the final moment--the flower burning in the Day--and what comes after, looking back on the mind itself that saw an American city a flash away, and the great dream of Me or China, or you and a phantom Russia, or a crumpled bed that never existed-- like a poem in the dark--escaped back to Oblivion-- No more to say, and nothing to weep for but the Beings in the Dream, trapped in its disappearance, sighing, screaming with it, buying and selling pieces of phantom, worship- ping each other, worshipping the God included in it all--longing or inevitability?--while it lasts, a Vision--anything more? It leaps about me, as I go out and walk the street, look back over my shoulder, Seventh Avenue, the battlements of window office buildings shoul- dering each other high, under a cloud, tall as the sky an instant--and the sky above--an old blue place. or down the Avenue to the south, to--as I walk toward the Lower East Side --where you walked 50 years ago, little girl--from Russia, eating the first poisonous tomatoes of America frightened on the dock then struggling in the crowds of Orchard Street toward what?--toward Newark-- toward candy store, first home-made sodas of the century, hand-churned ice cream in backroom on musty brownfloor boards-- Toward education marriage nervous breakdown, operation, teaching school, and learning to be mad, in a dream--what is this life? Toward the Key in the window--and the great Key lays its head of light on top of Manhattan, and over the floor, and lays down on the sidewalk--in a single vast beam, moving, as I walk down First toward the Yiddish Theater--and the place of poverty you knew, and I know, but without caring now--Strange to have moved thru Paterson, and the West, and Europe and here again, with the cries of Spaniards now in the doorstops doors and dark boys on the street, firs escapes old as you --Tho you're not old now, that's left here with me-- Myself, anyhow, maybe as old as the universe--and I guess that dies with us--enough to cancel all that comes--What came is gone forever every time-- That's good! That leaves it open for no regret--no fear radiators, lacklove, torture even toothache in the end-- Though while it comes it is a lion that eats the soul--and the lamb, the soul, in us, alas, offering itself in sacrifice to change's fierce hunger--hair and teeth--and the roar of bonepain, skull bare, break rib, rot-skin, braintricked Implacability. Ai! ai! we do worse! We are in a fix! And you're out, Death let you out, Death had the Mercy, you're done with your century, done with God, done with the path thru it--Done with yourself at last--Pure --Back to the Babe dark before your Father, before us all--before the world-- There, rest. No more suffering for you. I know where you've gone, it's good. No more flowers in the summer fields of New York, no joy now, no more fear of Louis, and no more of his sweetness and glasses, his high school decades, debts, loves, frightened telephone calls, conception beds, relatives, hands-- No more of sister Elanor,--she gone before you--we kept it secret you killed her--or she killed herself to bear with you--an arthritic heart --But Death's killed you both--No matter-- Nor your memory of your mother, 1915 tears in silent movies weeks and weeks--forgetting, agrieve watching Marie Dressler address human- ity, Chaplin dance in youth, or Boris Godunov, Chaliapin's at the Met, halling his voice of a weeping Czar --by standing room with Elanor & Max--watching also the Capital ists take seats in Orchestra, white furs, diamonds, with the YPSL's hitch-hiking thru Pennsylvania, in black baggy gym skirts pants, photograph of 4 girls holding each other round the waste, and laughing eye, too coy, virginal solitude of 1920 all girls grown old, or dead now, and that long hair in the grave--lucky to have husbands later-- You made it--I came too--Eugene my brother before (still grieving now and will gream on to his last stiff hand, as he goes thru his cancer--or kill --later perhaps--soon he will think--) And it's the last moment I remember, which I see them all, thru myself, now --tho not you I didn't foresee what you felt--what more hideous gape of bad mouth came first--to you--and were you prepared? To go where? In that Dark--that--in that God? a radiance? A Lord in the Void? Like an eye in the black cloud in a dream? Adonoi at last, with you? Beyond my remembrance! Incapable to guess! Not merely the yellow skull in the grave, or a box of worm dust, and a stained ribbon--Deaths- head with Halo? can you believe it? Is it only the sun that shines once for the mind, only the flash of existence, than none ever was? Nothing beyond what we have--what you had--that so pitiful--yet Tri- umph, to have been here, and changed, like a tree, broken, or flower--fed to the ground--but made, with its petals, colored, thinking Great Universe, shaken, cut in the head, leaf stript, hid in an egg crate hospital, cloth wrapped, sore--freaked in the moon brain, Naughtless. No flower like that flower, which knew itself in the garden, and fought the knife--lost Cut down by an idiot Snowman's icy--even in the Spring--strange ghost thought some--Death--Sharp icicle in his hand--crowned with old roses--a dog for his eyes--cock of a sweatshop--heart of electric irons. All the accumulations of life, that wear us out--clocks, bodies, consciousness, shoes, breasts--begotten sons--your Communism--'Paranoia' into hospitals. You once kicked Elanor in the leg, she died of heart failure later. You of stroke. Asleep? within a year, the two of you, sisters in death. Is Elanor happy? Max grieves alive in an office on Lower Broadway, lone large mustache over midnight Accountings, not sure. His life passes--as he sees--and what does he doubt now? Still dream of making money, or that might have made money, hired nurse, had children, found even your Im- mortality, Naomi? I'll see him soon. Now I've got to cut through to talk to you as I didn't when you had a mouth. Forever. And we're bound for that, Forever like Emily Dickinson's horses --headed to the End. They know the way--These Steeds--run faster than we think--it's our own life they cross--and take with them.

Magnificent, mourned no more, marred of heart, mind behind, mar- ried dreamed, mortal changed--Ass and face done with murder. In the world, given, flower maddened, made no Utopia, shut under pine, almed in Earth, blamed in Lone, Jehovah, accept. Nameless, One Faced, Forever beyond me, beginningless, endless, Father in death. Tho I am not there for this Prophecy, I am unmarried, I'm hymnless, I'm Heavenless, headless in blisshood I would still adore Thee, Heaven, after Death, only One blessed in Nothingness, not light or darkness, Dayless Eternity-- Take this, this Psalm, from me, burst from my hand in a day, some of my Time, now given to Nothing--to praise Thee--But Death This is the end, the redemption from Wilderness, way for the Won- derer, House sought for All, black handkerchief washed clean by weeping --page beyond Psalm--Last change of mine and Naomi--to God's perfect Darkness--Death, stay thy phantoms!

--Allen Ginsberg, “Kaddish, Pt. 1″ 1961

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fullhottubzombie-blog · 8 years ago

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Recently I received the following message - if YOU have information on same - please comment and/or notify us - Bob & Dave Cozzoinger - [email protected] and/or Dave Cozzoinger on FB & FB Chat : DO NOT KNOW IF THIS IS IN FACT A TRUE ORGANIZATION SITE ETC. ! ? Founders of : Church of the Historical Phallus Worship ; Church of the Vagina Sisterhood ; Church of the Golden Cock & Silver Pussy ; Church of the Golden Phallus ; Church of the C & V Climax (Clitoris & Vagina) ; Church of the Golden Phallus XXXX ; and our original sites: Lambda Rainbow Network ; Lambda Rainbow News & Views ; Lambda Rainbow LGBTQ Family - we are seeking others to continue our legacy and JOIN OUR ADMINISTRATIVE TEAM !***********************************************************Brother Cock Worshipers,At one time there was a yahoo group which interacted with men who worshiped the Holy Phallus. That is how I became involved in a total commitment to working King Cock, the master of all Kings. The King who is able to make like come anew. Without King Cock the survival of the world would not happen. There is no conflict between those who worship Christianity and those who worship King Cock; the two go together. In fact, the whole essence of Christianity is based on King Cock. Without King Cock there would be nothing. And for those who might see a conflict, there is absolutely none. Not once in the Christian Bible is there ever a mention of the cock; so if the good Lord did not give it to you when you were born He gave it to you to be worshiped for what its great value is. Hail the eternal Phallus and let us bow and pray to the Lord of Lords, King Cock.In the precious name of King CockBrother Marlin a loyal and devoted worshiper of King Cock.He is my God and always will be my God.My greatest regret is that I have to commune alone. I yearn to be able to commune with like minded worshipers of the great Phallus, King Cock. I have, I do believe, said that when I worship the cock is the bread and the cum is the wine; thus communing with like minded worshipers makes the entire worship experience more meaningful.I do yearn to find a house of worship to worship King Cock near where I live, but so far I have had no luck The worship of the great Phallus of King Cock is nothing new; it has been going on for centuries. One who has never read the Bible of King Cock may not be aware of thisI do believe that as like minded brothers who are devoted worshipers of King Cock, that we share that with which we commune. I have communed with like minded worhipers of King Cock of the Christian world who have served congregations of Christians. We before the thrown have given the essence of manhood and offered it up to the God of the Christian world in thanks for His providing with us the opportunity to worship the hallowed Phallus King Cock.When traveling it is a supreme honor to find like minded brothers worshiping King Cock. I have found that in my travels that some of the most conservative Christian men of the cloth are some of the most devoted worshipers of King Cock. And in their presence it even is more hallowed to be blessed by the King of the Christian world who provides us with the ability to worship the great Phallus, our great and hallowed King Cock.At one time, I was in contact with the head of the Church of the Cock who at that time lived in Canada. However, he must have passed because in recent communications with him, I have heard nothing. So it apparent that there is at the present time no head of the Church of the Cock. I find that very upsetting.For like minded brothers who do not have the Bible of the Church of the Cock, I do have a copy. I have posted here the rapture that we learn about in the Bible of the Church of the Cock. Frequently in the morning when I am worshiping King Cock the wonderful essence of man that He brings forth provides me with sustenance in my coffee. Attached are some pictures of an artist friend of mine who is a worshiper of King Cock who with his ability at art has reproduced himself in the various forms of worship to the great Phallus.

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back-and-totheleft · 5 years ago

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“Love is the only criticism”

The big-framed, genial filmmaker joined the throngs at BIFF 2011 — taking in some films, visiting around town, and then homing in on a Vielehr statuette and a long, fascinating conversation with BIFF Executive Producer of Special Events Ron Bostwick (who intrepidly scanned all 5,400 minutes of Stone’s filmic output as part of his preparation for the tribute).

The 64-year-old director, a three-time Oscar winner (as screenwriter, for “Midnight Express,” and as director of “Platoon” and “Born on the Fourth of July”), said, of his career-achievement honor, “This is not the end. This is the middle of the middle, not the beginning of the end.”

As he moved across the Boulder Theater stage to sit and chat with Bostwick, dozens of little glowing screens popped to life in the audience, viewscreens of cameras and video recorders, snapped on to drink in the sight and sound of the honoree.

Bostwick began the discussion asking Stone about the possible internal conflicts he faced when, as Stone has, he wore the hats of producer, director and writer of a given film interchangeably.

“I am conflicted,” Stone said. He talked about his self-termed Jekyll/Hyde impulses, explaining that his first name is William, his second Oliver, and that “the last psychiatrist I had theorized that William is the good boy and Oliver’s the bad boy. And Oliver does these things that William can’t stand – it creates tremendous tension, and out of that has come some fertility.”

Of his time at NYU, studying partly under Martin Scorsese: “Terrific. To major in film was new at the time, and we were in the first classes about this new medium . . . he (Scorsese) was tough. But the fellow students were the toughest! The chimpanzee bloodbath. It prepares you for the worst – which is what we experienced.”

He cited the incessant practicums in filmmaking at school as essential to his education. Each week, a team of students would make a film, trading functions such as actor, producer, writer, director, cameraman. “It was a good and rigorous way to learn,” he said. Ironically, the older, less wieldy pre-digital technology made the experience more rigorous.

“It was expensive – we couldn’t make many mistakes,” Stone said. He recalled that it wasn’t until years after his experience as a combat soldier in the Vietnam War that he began to really to process, contemplate and understand it. During the filming of “Salvador” in 1984 the parallels between what was happening there and what happened in Vietnam were disturbing to him.

“It seemed such a repetition of Vietnam,” he said. “South America keeps coming back like a reminder, in my life.” Stone filmed documentaries on the region: “Comandante” in 2003 and “South of the Border” in 2009.

Of his political awareness and contrarianism, which has been stereotyped by the press as a paranoid, conspiracy-theory-ridden mentality, especially after the release of his 1991 “JFK” film: “I didn’t seek it out, it kind of happened. It (his war experiences) gave me a strong sense of outrage, a sense of hypocrisy, of the government’s use of violence. Even to this day I have anger – plus, I have more money now so I pay taxes to buy these fucking bombs!”

He was asked about the remarkable percentage of actors in his films who have nominated for Oscars for their performances. Stone credited the performers for the merit of their work. “Each one of those actors was at the cusp of change,” Stone said. “Actors are always dying to redefine themselves.” Parenthetically, he said, “Never tell an actor he is just not right for a part. He will hate you for the rest of his life.”

Of the Oscars itself, Stone said, “I think of it as a wonderful parade and let it go. It’s very much a fashion show.”

Stone’s credo when it comes to his work is: “Make the movie – lie and steal and cheat – make the fucking movie.” He also reserves the right to go back and improve work that he feels wasn’t up to snuff, citing his 2007 director’s cut of “Alexander” as time well spent getting to tell the story in the way he intended.

He also admitted to being scared off projects from time to time – listing one concerning Martin Luther King, and another concerning the My Lai massacre, neither of which saw the light of day.

Bostwick played a second highlight reel for Stone – one that showed Stone performing in numerous cameo roles in his films. Of them, Stone said: “It’s fun to throw myself into my films. You cross the barrier and see what things are like for the people on the other side of the camera. It helps to loosen you up.” When asked if he was ready for one more clip of one of his performances, Stone joked, “It’s not a porno film, is it?” It turned to be Stone’s brief turn as a conspiratorially-minded version of himself on Larry King’s TV talk show in “Dave,” the 1993 comedy that involves a nice-guy double for a curmudgeonly President taking his place. Stone is the only one who notices the switch. “Don’t you think you should point out that I’m the only one in the film that turns out to be right?” Stone said, eyebrows cocked.

Of his experience writing the script for “Midnight Express,” Stone said that part of the script came from his own personal experience. He stated that he had been busted for drug possession eight days after returning home from service in Vietnam. “It’s disgusting hypocrisy – busting people for grass,” he said to great applause.

Stone outlined the underlying themes of his films as interrogations of the American ethos. He paraphrased Roman satirist Juvenal, saying, “Luxury corrupts far more ruthlessly than war,” and went on say that, in many of his films, he is asking “’Who is the bad guy here?’ Who is the bad guy, Mickey and Mallory (the mass-murderer central characters of his 1994 film “Natural Born Killers”) or the state?”

Riffing on his experience in Vietnam and its relation to his film “Platoon,” Stone disagreed with the general worshipful assessment of the “Greatest Generation,” stating “These guys behaved so arrogantly (in Vietnam) . . . And don’t forget, people make money in war – the PX system is corrupt like Vegas. ‘Air America’ (the 1990 Roger Spottiswoode action/comedy that indicted the CIA for enabling drug trafficking during the era) is pretty accurate. Fuck the Wall Street Journal (which published an editorial stating that the film was an affront to the memory of the soldiers who fought and died in Vietnam).”

Stone then declared that he hoped no one was blogging in the audience. Those around me turned to me and laughed nervously. I grinned with clenched teeth and kept typing.

Stone then spoke positively about Rupert Murdoch, owner of the Journal and global media lord, as a person, though, stating that “Nothing’s black and white except maybe Roger Ailes (president of the Fox News Channel).” Stone continued, “The major mainstream media is really screwed up and has put a bubble over this country. It’s not a democracy. If someone runs for office, he doesn’t have to win us — if he wins the media, he wins the election.” How can it be changed?, Bostwick asked.

“Get the airwaves back,” Stone replied. “Don’t give licenses to the biggest barons with money. Keep the real, free airwaves for the people. Media tells you what’s good, what’s bad, what to think . . . down beneath the media, it’s another world.”

Stone stated he was delighted with his visit. “I think Boulder should secede,” he said. “The Republic of Crazy, that’d be great! And then Steamboat Springs would jump in. Before you know it, there’d be a civil war between Aspen and you.”

Discussing his 1993 film “Heaven & Earth,” Stone said it “changed my heart. It was a chance for me as an American solider to look through the eyes of the people of Vietnam. That and ‘Nixon’ were my two biggest commercial disasters.”

He described the critical drubbing he took on “Heaven & Earth” as due partly to the difficulty of reviewers to grapple with overly spiritual material.

“Critics have a very hard time, ‘cause it’s a leap of faith. If they buy into it, they risk looking foolish on a spiritual level,” he said. As to “Nixon,” he said, “A man in a terrible suit glowering on a poster with a bunch of men in bad suits and bad haircuts is not a crowd-pleaser.”

When discussing how technology has changed the practice of experiencing a film, Stone stated first of all that “I loved road shows when I was a kid – four hours with an intermission!” (Roadshow theatrical releases, particularly popular from 1952 to 1971, we one- to two-a-day showings of widescreen epic films such as “The Ten Commandments,” “The Alamo” and “Lawrence of Arabia.”) “I love big dramas, I love Vincente Minnelli.”

Stone called Blu-ray “the last hardware.”

“This is your last chance to own a movie,” he said, surmising that non-theatrical audiences will in future order films online and download them, losing direct access to the created work. With the purchase of a concrete object that contains a given film, Stone said “You’re a possessor, you’re a collector,” and spoke of that warmly, stating by analogy that owning a library of films is satisfying, akin to “having a book on a shelf.”

Stone spoke of his upcoming documentary series for television, titled “Empire: the Forgotten History of the United States.” It tracks America’s military and foreign policies from World War II to today, postulating the errors that led in the view of some to the triumph of the military/industrial complex warned of by Eisenhower.

“We veered off into this national security state thing,” Stone said, and citing presidents such as Truman for their lack of intelligence in failing to prevent the tendency.

“There’s a mythos of Truman as this smart, tough little guy,” Stone said,” but I think we’ll eventually realize that he was as stupid as George W. Bush.”

Questions from the audience followed the interview. When asked by one young filmmaker, “Can you tell me what mistakes you made so that I don’t have to repeat them,” Stone replied, gently, “You have to make your own mistakes.”

Another aspiring filmmaker, now an enlisted person, asked what he should make a movie about. “Go to the Pentagon,” Stone said. “Make a film about what you know.”

When asked what kind of comic-book-character film he might make if were so inclined, Stone reminded the questioner that he had written the original script for “Conan the Barbarian,” and then said, “Why would you want to do that? Aren’t there enough of those films already? Make something else!”

When asked what thought of critics, he said, “Some of them should die,” then revised his statement, saying that writers such as Roger Ebert were to be praised for their intelligence and constructive criticism.

However, he went on, “They’re (bloggers are) looking for eyeballs and they’ll say anything. The thing I want to ask them is, ‘Are you happy in your soul? On your deathbed, do you think how many lives did you fuck up?’ In my mind, love is the only criticism. Think like a parent – point out the ways the child can improve his behavior, don’t trash him.”

After an interlude during which various audience members tried to convince Stone to make a film supporting their beliefs or causes (“I can’t chase every cause,” he explained, again gently), he was asked about the roles of festivals in promoting film.

“I love them,” he said. “Boulder, or Cannes, festivals are great. You get to see things you’d never see otherwise. Films like ‘The Edge’ (by Aleksi Uchitel, 2010) which we saw last night. Plus, it’s a nice place to give awards to old-timers,” referring ironically to himself.

-Brad Weismann, “Stone speaks: the BIFF interview,” Boulder International Film Festival, Feb 25 2011 [x]

#oliver stone #interviews #boulder international film festival #platoon #Natural Born Killers #politics #colorado #awards #bloggers #critics #marijuana #drugs #Untold History of the United States

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