#blaise (bawdybooster)

[bawdybooster]

Interruptions

Ever since you were brought under Blaise’s payroll, you’ve found thoughts of the slimy fixer interrupting your work again and again. Still, it could be worse. He could actually be interrupting your investigations.

…

(3.7K Words)

It had been weeks since he’d started seeing you, and already you felt like he was becoming all you could think about.

Your song and dance with Blaise had become routine by this point.  Every Friday, the slimy fixer would show up to ensure your silence.  He’d bind you up in his slick, scarlet body as he checked in on you and your work, and when he was done combing through your files, he’d turn his full attention to you:  Coating you with his pleasing slime, riling you up with sweet nothings in your ear, showing just how thorough he could be when he—

“Detective?”

You blinked, coming down from Cloud Nine and back to your dark office.  Before you sat an old elf, tightly wound in his demeanor, his hair grayed with age and suit worn with experience.  He had come to you in your office with little besides a cane, a newspaper, and a handbag full of cash. Beneath his thick, bushy brows sat a pair of beady green eyes, eyeing you with concern.  “Are you… well, Detective?”  He asked.

“Yes, Mister Hallows,” You said, pulling yourself back together, “You were just saying about the uh… the…”

“My son, Alaric, and his err… condition.”

“Of course,” you sighed,  “I’m sorry, Sir, I’m just… how does your son’s ailment relate to the Break-In at your Store?”

“I want you to find them for me, Detective, so I can give them a piece of my mind!”  Mister Hallows scowled.  “These burglars break into my store, smash up the place, scare my only kin to shambles, and worse of all, they have the nerve to not steal anything from me?  They didn’t even touch the register!”

You sighed, holding your head in exhaustion.  “He’s your last client of the day,”  You thought to yourself, “Send him on his way, then get ready for Blaise and you can forget this whole thing even happened.”

“Look, Mister Hallows,” you explained, “I understand your frustration, but I don’t think there’s anything I can work with here.  Your son said he didn’t see or hear any of the burglars break in.  It’s like the whole thing was done by… well… by phantoms.”

Mister Hallows perked up.  “Could they be phantoms?”

“Phantoms don’t leave fur scattered about your store, Mister Hallows.”

“Maybe so,” Mister Hallows mused, “but these here phantoms… they could’ve possessed someone with fur so that they take the blame!”

As Mister Hallows rambled on about the fabrication of evidence by the souls of the hereafter, you felt a chill shiver down your spine.  Your attention turned from the elderly elf to the front door to your building opening, its hallmark bell chime followed by a slimy, gurgling sound creeping towards your office.  A slick, red figure appeared through the frosted glass of your office door.

Blaise was here, and he was here early.

“…and if we find ourselves an exorcist, Detective,” Mister Hallows finished, “I’m sure we can track down the specter behind this ordeal.”

You sprang forth from your seat as the doorknob turned, jumping past Mister Hallows to try and slam the door shut, though to no avail.  An inch was all Blaise needed to squeeze his way into the room.  He spilled through the air and landed directly into your desk chair.  You turned around and found him eyeing you up, already formed again into his usual, handsome self.

“You’re early,”  You gulped.

Blaise smirked, “And you need a vacation~”

“You.  are.  Early.”  You hissed through gritted teeth, motioning to your client sitting in front of your desk.

The slime shrugged.  “What can I say?  I wanted to surprise you.  I figured, what with how boring this afternoon’s been, I’d show up early and make tonight a bit longer for us both.”  He gave a playful wink, slipping his tongue out between his lips and darting it forward.  You flinched at the sight of it, thinking of how good it would feel in your mouth.

“Excuse me, Detective” came a voice.  The two of you turned back to Mister Hallows, staring somewhat aghast at the great red figure sitting where you once were.  “But… who is this, err… slime person?”

You gulped, realizing you hadn’t come up with a good explanation.  You’d been fortunate enough that no one had spotted you and Blaise together before, but now things were out of hand.  Blaise had placed himself with you in front of a client, one who was an elderly elf.  And knowing elves, he wasn’t about to forget about this ordeal quickly, let alone keep it secret.

“This is…” You began, only for Blaise to interrupt you.

“Roy,”  Blaise interrupted,  “Roy Brooke.  I’m a Consultant here our Detective Friend hired to help out with a case or two.”  The slime extended a friendly handshake over to Mister Hallows, and you felt yourself shrivel inside as the old man firmly grasped the slime’s hand.

“Good.”  Mister Hallows grinned.  “Archibald Hallows.  You can help us find this burglar specter of mine.”  He returned his hand, sniffing the sweet touch that had been left in his hand.  “Strawberries?”

“What can I say?  I like to keep things sweet around here.”

“That’s wonderful, Roy,” you mused, stepping back to your desk, “But could you, perhaps, leave me to my client?  We can ‘consult’ on our case later.”

You eyed the slime and that smug, self-assured look on his face.  You loved the sight of him, but heavens above, he could be a handful.

…actually, it might be best not to think of ‘Blaise’ and ‘Handfuls’ at the moment.

“Oh?”  The slime gave a feigned look of shock.  “Surely I could be of use to you, Detective.  I’m sure Mister Hallows here wouldn’t be against such an idea.”

Mister Hallows mused to himself.  “I suppose there’s no harm in it.”

You rolled your eyes and stifled a sigh.  “Alright, let’s get you up to speed.”

After coaxing Blaise out of your seat and into the empty chair next to Mister Hallows, you sat down together with the two gentlemen, recounting the story so far as you pour them each a cup of coffee.

“Monday morning,” you began thoughtfully, “Mister Hallows here leaves the Grand Metropolis to visit his younger brothers in the countryside.  Before he leaves, he entrusts his son Alaric to watch over his shop and storefront until his return in two weeks' time.”

You hand a cup of coffee to Mister Hallows, who takes it and nods.  “It was going to be a splendid time.  It’d been so long since I’d had a chance to unwind with my family.  I wanted to bring Alaric along, but…” he trailed off, murmuring to himself as he sipped on the hot drink.

“After three nights in the country,” you continue, “A telegram comes in from Alaric, urging him to come home as soon as possible.  Mister Hallows boards the midnight train back to the Grand Metropolis late last night and arrives home this morning to find his shop broken into and his son Alaric fast asleep as if nothing’s happened.”

“Intriguing,” Blaise remarks, a slimy tendril wrapping around your hand as he pulls the cup of coffee from your fingers.  “Most intriguing, Detective.”

You shiver at the sensation of Blaise wrapped around you, his tendril taking its sweet time unraveling from your arm.  You collect yourself and turn back to the facts of the case.

“Nothing from the shop is missing.  Despite Alaric’s objections, Mister Hallows files a report with Grand Metro PD.  But, as they’re up to their necks in reports, they send him over to the local PI, Yours Truly.”  You gulp down the coffee, and turn your focus back to the men before you, “So, I ask you this, gentlemen… Who breaks into a store to not steal anything?”

“A Phantom.”  Mister Hallows shivers.  “A specter of the hereafter, back to settle unfinished business.”

“An interesting tale, but unlikely.”  You take a seat in your chair and stifle a moan.  Something sticky grasps at your rear through your clothes, gently caressing your thighs.  You turn your attention to Blaise, glaring at him as if to silently say “Now Is Not The Time For This.”  He gives you a playful wink as he sips his coffee.

Thankfully, Mister Hallows remains oblivious to the silent tension between the two of you.  “Unlikely… how?”  He asks.

“Well…” You ponder, pulling from a case a while back involving two Phantoms seeking retribution against one another.  “Phantoms are an… anomaly.  A soul per–persists after death, seeking to… to reso—”

You steady yourself, your thoughts wandering as Blaise’s shifting touch constricts your thoughts… but not as much as your groin.

“To Resolve unfinished business!”  You finish, fidgeting the slime off of you.  You feel naked without his touch and side-eye Blaise.  The red menace seems as casual as ever, but his eyes dare you to finish without his touch on your skin.  “I don’t see how breaking into your shop to steal nothing from you would resolve any quarrel it would have with you.”

“Maybe he wants to toy with me,”  Mister Hallows murmured.  “Drive me mad from beyond the grave, setting up scapegoats so his larger scheme can go undetected until the moment he wants to—”

“No, no,” Blaise interrupted, “It’s too complicated.  If this Phantom wanted to toy with you, they’d do it through you directly or a loved one.”

You stand as you feel a slimy tendril coil around your leg.  “Which brings me to our first major clue,” you shout aloud, producing a small glass case showcasing a bit of animal fur.  “The fur.”

Mister Hallows blinks.  “The fur?”

“The fur.”  You continued.  “I recognize this texture and smell — canine in nature — not to mention some of the marks in your floorboard showcasing pawprints in the wood.”

“So a pack of dogmen broke into my shop!”  The elderly elf spluttered.  “I should have known!  It was those Mutts on 21st Street!”

“Not quite, Mister Hallows,” You explain, trying to calm the stirred elder.  “I’ve reason to believe only one canine was in your store last night.  Now, I believe that—”

You paused, a moment of clarity dawning upon your mind.

“One more thing, actually…” You chuckled sheepishly.  “I hate to ask, but you mentioned your son Alaric has an ailing condition.  It wouldn’t be…”

“Lycanthropy,” the elf states matter-of-factly, practically ordering you to choose your next words carefully.  “Came down with it almost a month ago after a run-in with some strikebreakers.  But I’ve been treating it with a prescription of Wolfsbane—”

“A prescription you filed under your name?”

“Alaric’s exhausted day in and day out.  He doesn’t have the time to—”

“But he has the time to watch your shop while you’re in the country?”

“He said he’d be fine while I was gone—”

“There was a Full Moon last night, Mister Hallows!”

The elf’s beady eyes twisted into a raging scowl.  “If you mean to say that my son, me own flesh and blood, ransacked me own shop, Detective, you must be—”

A torrent of red descended upon Mister Hallows, flowing over him and his chair and binding him down before he could lash out at you.  Blaise’s head formed next to his own, a slimy red hand holding the elf’s head still.

“Relax, Archie~”  Blaise soothed, “The Detective knows what they’re talking about.”  Blaise turned back to you, and you shook your head, yourself in disbelief at what you believed to have occurred.

“Mister Hallows,” you began slowly, “I do not believe that your son acted in ill will, but I do believe in this.”

You paced behind your desk, formulating the events in your mind.  Blaise watched with interest.

“One month ago,” You began, “You signed a prescription in your name for Wolfsbane to treat your son’s ailment following an attack by a werewolf.  Weeks later, you and your son are invited to visit your relatives in the country.  Being a prideful elf, as you’ve so evidently shown, you can’t stomach the idea of anyone knowing your son has this condition.  You close your shop for the week on Monday and leave Alaric to watch over it in your absence.”

You stop, turning on your heel.  “But, the prescription is finished sooner than you expected, and Alaric, unable to refill it himself, writes urgently to you to quickly come back for a day and refill it — Only you’re not quick enough.  Last night, with no Wolfsbane to halt the effects of the moonlight, Alaric transforms.  Under the influence of the Full Moon, he stumbles through your shop in a fit of confusion, unused to the proper effects of lycanthropy.  He breaks this and that all through the night until morning comes.  Upon which, he exhaustedly scrambles to his bed and falls asleep.  You arrive home in aghast at the ordeal, and you approach me today, seeking to find another reason for these events.”

You turn back to the elf bound to his chair in red slime.  “Mister Hallows, no crime has been committed here.  It was, simply put, an accident.”

The elf makes no response.

“Mister Hallows?”

A gurgling moan spills from Mister Hallows’ lips, his eyes half-lidded in euphoria from the sensations of Blaise’s slimy embrace.  You gawk at the sight of the old man coming undone in binds of red slime, ribbons of scarlet flowing over him and caressing him with wanton affection.  A part of you was in dismay at the sight, though deep within you felt jealous of the elf.

“Blaise,” you said pointedly, “What are you doing to Mister Hallows?”

The slime waves away your concern.  “The poor old man’s been so taught over this ordeal.  I figured I ought to help him unwind a bit while you explain it all away.  I must say, you are a Master of Deduction.  I’m impressed by what your mind does when you aren’t obsessing over me~”

“He’s a client!  He’s my client!  You can’t just fondle and grope my clients at your pleas—”

You gag as a band of slime shoots out and wraps around your throat.  You gag, pleasure overwhelming your senses as the tight hold leaves you gasping for breath.  Blaise slinks over to you with a toying look in his eye.

“Speaking of which…” He cooed, “I believe, as my client,  I bought your silence, Detective.  So, please… Your work is over.  Why don’t you relax like our good friend Mister Hallows and let me do my work~”

The elf murmured incoherently from the chair, the need in his voice begging for more of Blaise’s attention.

You wince as the slimy collar grips you.  Your eyes roll in your head, your mind succumbing to Blaise’s touch much quicker than you anticipated.  You’d have thought your routine visits with him would’ve numbed you to his presence, but as waves of red begin to envelop you, you can’t deny how good it feels to let him work his magic.

Blaise cups your chin in a slimy tendril, his pink eyes staring you down hungrily as a long tongue slithers from his lips.  You wanted him to quit teasing and plunge it directly down your throat.  You needed his sweet, syrupy taste in your mouth more than ever.  His tongue stretches out towards you, winding itself up to pounce.  The slime around your neck retreats, granting you room to breathe and babble incoherently at the thought of it.

The slime squeezes around your throat again, and you gag as it rises to gag your mouth.  Blaise’s tongue licks over your cheek, and the slime moves to whisper in your ear.

“You’re so eager, Detective~” Blaise teases, “But you’ll have to make do with your ‘client’ before you’re ready for me.”

Your eyes dart as Blaise’s slime lifts you, moving you to the other side of the room where Mister Hallows quivers in his binds.  Blaise sets to multitasking, combing through your files and cases as his slime sets to pleasuring you and the elf.  The two of you erupt into muffled moans as the gooey hold surrounding you ripples, sending waves of pleasure through your bodies.  Your mind raced with thoughts of how badly you needed this.

A slimy mass pushes against your crotch and your vision blurs as it pulses between your thighs.  You throw your head back, the slime slipping from your mouth to let Blaise hear you moan.  You cry out in ecstasy at the slime overwhelming your senses, and your head hangs limply as it continues its conquest of your body.

A brief thought enters your mind as your dazed eyes turn back to the elf opposite you.  It never occurred to you, but you never realized how handsome Mister Hallows was.  The elf had aged well, you could admit, but seeing him bound up alongside you made him appear to you like a vision from above.  Ensnared in lengths of scarlet, mewling incoherently as his naked body was left slick and pliant from Blaise’s touch — it was like you had sipped a fine wine beyond compare.

But most beautiful of all were his eyes.

The elf had a wonderful set of green eyes.  You knew this for a fact.  But here in Blaise’s touch, those eyes were nowhere to be seen.  Beneath his bushy brows, his eyes had glazed over with a shade of rich, rosy pink not unlike Blaise’s eyes.  They were intoxicating to look at and made you feel as if you were looking into the slime’s eyes themself.

It was these eyes that drew you to him.

It was these eyes that made you think of your own eyes, and how you’d never thought of how pretty they looked glazed in Blaise’s own.

It was these eyes that made you thrash closer to him, eager to plant your lips on him and taste the sweet syrup that glistened over both of your bodies.

And as the slime brought you closer together, you realized those same, needy thoughts were laying waste to Mister Hallows’ mind.

You descended upon the elf with a consuming hunger, your bodies moving in sync as they ground against one another.  Bliss flowed between the two of you, connected through your lips rolled over your bodies’ wonderful tastes, the silent gasps and groans accompanying your dance of delight, and the flowing caresses of your hands and the slime around you both.

As you lay with the elf, your body feeling like one together with his, Blaise continued his studies.  He scoured through file after file, pouring over notes and taking in your recent work.  At last, he stops, his eyes settled on a familiar file.

“Someone is still interested in our missing Botanist, Detective,” he tutted, looking over the case.  “You’ve done well to ignore them, but I think a more direct message may be necessary if they persist in seeing you.”  He pocketed the file into his gooey form, then turned his attention back to you.

He grinned at the sight of you descending upon Mister Hallows, the old elf’s senses coming undone as you mouthed breathlessly into his lips.

“Now then…” He smirked.

You and the elf gasped as slime wound between your bodies and pulled you apart, your tongues lulling needily as they were torn from the other’s lips.  Mister Hallows groaned as his lips were left deprived of your touch.  You panted for breath, still wanting more of that syrupy taste on your lips.

“I hope you’re finished with your appetizer, Detective,”  Blaise whispered, wrapping you tight within himself, “Because it’s time for your main course~”

A giggle leaks from your mouth as you writhe giddily in his slimy grasp, waves of crimson tormenting you as they pulse and caress you with wanton desire.  Your mind begs for him, cries out in silent mewls for him to drown you in heavenly, euphoric

Bliss~

Your mind stills as something long and red slips into your mouth.  The sickly sweet taste of strawberries silences every sensation in your body as Blaise kisses you deeply, his lips rolling over your own and pushing you deeper into his embrace.  You tremble in his touch as you feel your mind melting, everything soaked in pure pleasure.  Your fingers claw desperately for something to grip, finding their only hold in his gooey form as he binds your hands in his tendrils and spreads you out.  Your legs quiver and jolt as he blankets your body.

Every part of your body drowns in the sensation of slime.  Nothing — Nothing — is left untouched.  No inch of you is left unstained.  No muscle was left without a caress.  All you feel is Blaise.  All you know is Blaise.  All around you is Blaise.

The long, slimy tongue down your throat retreats for a moment, granting you a brief reprieve to pant and gasp for breath, only for it to push sinfully back in to give you a deeper taste.  Back and forth it comes and goes, in and out of your throat.  You gulp down 

You hardly know how long you’ve been here with him in his touch.

You hardly know your own name.

All you know is when his slime finally, lazily, pulls itself off of you, you’re still hungry for more.

Blaise shushes you as you reach out for him, and for a brief moment, he holds you still, admiring the pink in your half-lidded eyes.

“You’ve done so well tonight, Detective,” he said warmly, “Rest well, and in the morning — after you’ve received your payment for your blind eye — remember what you’ve pieced together on Mister Hallows’ case.”

Your senses succumb to the gentle pull of sleep, and Blaise carries you gently up to your bed upstairs.  Upon his return, he turned his attention to the old elf, still bound in his slime and babbling incoherently in sweet delight.

“Now, Mister Hallows,” he said with a devious grin, “I’m afraid I cannot allow you to remember some of the details from your meeting with the Detective today.  Fortunately for us, that requires us to get to know each other much more… intimately~”

Mister Hallows stilled as Blaise cupped his head in his slimy hands, caressing the old elf’s cheek.  He murmured in a shaky voice about needing something.

“Don’t worry,” Blaise soothed, rubbing his slime over the elf’s temples, “The Detective will close this case with you and your son tomorrow over lunch.  But for now, relax, and let me fix everything in your addled mind.  I know just what you need to feel so much better~”

[bawdybooster]

No story tonight, but My Slimy Suspicions Sequel Story is dropping TOMORROW!!! I finished it up earlier today at a whopping ~3.7K Words, making it currently my longest work yet! The Current Title is Interruptions (Which I'm still not committed to atm) and I hope you all enjoy it!

Here's a snippet for y'all to enjoy!

“You’re early,”  You gulped. Blaise smirked, “And you need a vacation~” “You.  are.  Early .”  You hissed through gritted teeth, motioning to your client sitting in front of your desk. The slime shrugged.  “What can I say?  I wanted to surprise you.  I figured, what with how boring this afternoon’s been, I’d show up early and make tonight a bit longer for us both.”  He gave a playful wink, slipping his tongue out between his lips and darting it forward.  You flinched at the sight of it, thinking of how good it would feel in your mouth.