#when I get home I’ll put on one of those shirts that reveals my underbelly and eat a big lunch ;)

[hungwy-sinner]

something about your plush lower belly makes me want to tie you to a chair while you're wearing one of those lil shirts that show off that lil sliver of underbelly, so i can bite and bite and bite until the marks on your belly remind you just as much of me as your collar does...maybe if you eat everything i feed you, until you're so swollen your tummy has barely any jiggle left, the bruises I left stretched taut, your shirt riding up to the top of your belly. I'll let my good boy have his special treat, but not after I make you stand and show off how round and heavy you've gotten by waddling to me, when i let you sit down on my lap and your tummy sloshes with the movement, I'll know you still have enough room for dessert. As long as you keep eating, you can grind on my thigh, and maybe when you're done, I'll help rub and soothe your painfully tight and round tummy :3

- 🍑

Holy fuck I don’t need to be this horny this early in the day. I’m at work! That whole scenario is extremely hot and now I’m super needy all over again. I need my skin stretched taut over my stuffed belly until it leaves new marks. I need to be bitten and marked so everybody knows I’m yours. I need to be stuffed beyond belief and teased about it. Gods, thank you for this ask I needed to start my day like this 🥵🥵🥵

[poge-life]

UnderBelly{ Sweet Pea: Chapter One

Stephanie "Stevie" Jones was standing at her so called "locker" when her pinked best friend joined her, "Yes, Toni?" Stevie turned her attention to look at her, who just sent her a smile.

"Your brother is coming today so I can show him around. How ya feeling?" Toni asked, as Stevie turned back to her locker, grabbing her jacket before shutting it and turning back to Toni

"Fine. I see him all the time at home now. Not really different. Except for the fact that now we'll literally be spending every second together. But, now you guys get to deal with another hot head." Stevie explained, linking her arm with Toni

"Wanna come with? I'm sure he'd feel better with a familiar face to help show him around." Toni asked, looking over at the brunette. Stevie shook her head in response, "Can't. I'm supposed to meet Sweet Pea at lunch."

Toni smirked at the mention of their tall friend and Stevie nudged her before turning to walk to the stairs that led to the cafeteria, "Wipe the smirk off your face Topaz. He's just a friend."

"I'm just saying. You two have been hanging out a lot more recently. Before, you two couldn't even be in the same room together without me and Fangs having to hold you guys from beating each other." Toni laughed, causing Stevie to glare at her.

They both turned to walk into the Cafeteria before Stevie stopped at the doorway. She felt a smile make its way across her face at the sight in front of her. Sitting on top of a table where other serpents sat, was Sweet Pea; laughing at whatever was said.

Toni couldn't help but smile at Stevie, knowing how happy she was when she was around Sweet Pea.

"I gotta go grab your brother. Save me a seat?" Toni saluted and turned to walk back up the stairs they just came down from. Stevie shook her head at her pink haired friend and turned to put on her jacket.

At southside high, if you weren't wearing a serpent or ghoulie jacket, you were up for grabs by the ghoulies. But with Stevie being the daughter of Fp Jones, meant that no one even dared to try anything with her.

Stevie made her way to where the Serpents were sitting, causing Sweet Pea to hop off the table and smile at her, "Hey there, princess."

Stevie groaned at the nickname and shoved past her tall friend, "We've talked about this. I hate that nickname." She plopped down on the bench next to Fangs, who sent her a smile and she winked at him in return.

Fangs Fogarty was the newest addition to the Serpents. Having joined at the start of the school year and Stevie thought he was absolutely adorable. He was attractive, she would give him that. Despite having just joined the serpents, him, Stevie, Toni, and Sweet Pea were basically the four musketeers.

Sweet Pea sat next to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side, "Actually. You talked and I listened. And I decided that I'm gonna keep calling you that until I come up with something better."

Fangs had sent both of his friends a look at the sight of them being all lovey dovey at the lunch table. Sweet Pea and Stevie both threw up the middle finger and turned their attention to the conversation that took place before Stevie sat down.

While Stevie was distracted, she didn't see her brother or her best friend walk into the cafeteria but Jughead did notice his sister. Or rather who his sister was with.

"Who's that with my sister?" Jughead asked, pointing to said girl. Toni turned her head to see who he was pointing at and let a smile make its way across her face. Stevie was laughing at whatever Fangs had said while Sweet Pea groaned, flipping him off

"Sweet Pea. He's helped her with everything going on with your dad. He's a good guy. He has a temper. But he's okay." Toni explained

"She sits with you guys?" Jughead asked in confusion and Toni sent him a look of confusion

"She's a serpent. Why wouldn't she be?"

"Stevie? She's not a serpent."

Toni rolled her eyes at the beanie wearing boy and crossed her arms over her chest, "She's been one for while now. Right after your mom left. Probably around the time you left."

"Why didn't she tell me?" He mumbled and turned to walk away. Toni shook her head and made her way over to her friends, "Why didn't you tell your brother you were a serpent?"

Stevie sat up straight and turned to look over at Toni who raised her eyebrows at the girl. Stevie sighed and ran her hands thru her hair. "He gets enough shit about our dad being a serpent and being from the southside. I didn't wanna add fuel to the fire for Alice Cooper to take a dig at me too. I mean, I'm surprised she doesn't know and hasn't outed me to all of Riverdale."

"You guys live with each other. How'd he never notice?" Fangs asked, furrowing his eyebrows

"Jug left after our dad went off the wagon when our mom left. He just now moved back in when dad turned himself around. Besides, I'm always with you guys or at the wyrm so he never got a chance to figure it out." She shrugged, leaning back into Sweet Pea's side.

Toni and Fangs shared a look before turning to face their two friends who glared at them.

"Anyways, we all have a bio project due and her and I are going to the library while you two figure how you're gonna help." Toni spoke, grabbing her bag as Stevie did the same and stood up

"Wait, we have a library?"

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

"You didn't tell me you were a serpent." Jughead spoke as Stevie walked into the kitchen of their trailer. She sighed and set her bag and jacket on the table

"You weren't around after Dad fell off the wagon. Even though he was here, he wasn't really here. He was either drunk or passed out on the couch. They've been a family to me over the last few years." She explained, looking over at her brother who just nodded

"Why didn't you tell me? I'm your brother? Do mom and dad know?"

"Because you've already been through so much! You were crushed when mom and JB left. And you left as soon as stuff with Dad got bad. I became one after you stopped living here. Dad was barely there and I needed protection. What better way to get that then joining the serpents. They've been here through everything. When the sheriff department came in here and trashed the place, they were there. When dad got arrested, they were there while you were off living in the Northside!" Stevie exclaimed, standing up to walk to the sink, her back to her brother.

She took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling, tears threatening to fall, "You've always been so judgemental about the serpents. I couldn't have you judge me too." Stevie spoke in a quiet voice

"I'm not judgemental about the serpents." Jughead started before Stevie cut him off

"You won't even sit with us at lunch!" She exclaimed, turning to look at him

A knock at the door prevented them from arguing anything further. Stevie sighed and walked over to the door, opening it to reveal Sweet Pea with Toni and Fangs on their bikes behind him. He raised his eyebrow at the sight of her bloodshot eyes, "you okay princess?"

Stevie cleared her throat and wiped at her eyes, "Yeah, I'm fine."

"If you say so. You ready?" He asked, crossing his arms and she nodded

"Just gotta grab my stuff." She turned to the kitchen and grabbed her backpack and jacket, " I'll see you at school, Juggie."

Stevie shrugged her jacket on and placed her backpack on her back, shutting the door behind her as Sweet Pea wrapped his arm around her shoulder, "You sure you're okay?"

"I'll tell you later, promise. Anyways, did you use the notes I gave you for your bio test?" Stevie asked, looking up at the tall serpent. She took note of his appearance. He had a green t-shirt on with his denim/flannel serpent jacket on. His hair, which was usually gelled off to the side, was kind of messy today. Not that she minded.

"For like all of 10 minutes. I don't need to study. Collins is an idiot. He'll pass us no matter how we do on the test." Sweet Pea scoffed, walking them over to his bike before removing his arm from her and throwing his leg over his bike, Stevie standing next to him.

"Doesn't matter. You still need to learn this stuff if you wanna graduate next year." Stevie huffed, running her fingers through his hair. If it was anyone who wasn't Stevie, he probably would have broken their wrist, but Stevie was the only person he allowed to touch his hair

Toni and Fangs shared a look with each other, rolling their eyes at the two before Toni called out, "C'mon love birds! We still gotta go to school."

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

Stevie sat next to Toni in their English class with Jughead at the desk next to them and Sweet Pea sitting on top of the one diagonal from Jughead. Toni and Jughead were really the only ones paying attention to what Mr. Phillips had to say as Sweet Pea was on his phone and Stevie was doodling in her notebook. Very rarely did Stevie pay attention in her English class, mainly because she already knew everything he had taught.

The entire class was startled by Sweet Pea's sudden outburst.

"What?! Dammit!"

Kicking over the chair in front of him, he stormed out of the class and Stevie rolled her eyes and started packing up her bag

"Stevie..." Mr Phillips started before she cut him off by waving her hand at him.

"I'm already on it."

It wasn't the first time Stevie was sent after Sweet Pea after one of his outbursts. Everyone knew about his temper and how it was suicide mission for anyone to try and stop it. Stevie was often called out of class by either fellow serpents or Fangs and Toni who had texted her and told her about him storming off in a rage.

She pulled her bag over her shoulder and saluted the class before running after said serpent.

Stevie found him outside, kicking the crap out of a trash can. She rolled her eyes and rushed down the steps, "Pea? Hey! Look at me!"

Stevie dropped her bag and grabbed his face in both of her hands causing him to stop his assault on the trashcan and to turn his attention towards her.

"What happened?"

"Those damn Ghoulies. Fucking Malachai showed up at the wyrm, trying to get some of the other serpents to run JJ for him. They refused so they swung first." He explained causing her to nod her head, "Hey! Tall Boy and Hog eye can take care of the wyrm. Right now, you just need to calm down! You can't just go running out of class every time the ghoulies do something that piss you off!"

She noticed his breathing had slowed down and she took this time to look over his face. If you weren't paying close attention or looking close enough, you wouldn't even notice that he had very faint freckles on the bridge of his nose, running across his cheeks. He had black outlining his deep brown eyes with specks of gold in them. He also had an indent of a dimple by his mouth that only showed when he smiled, which he did when he was around Stevie.

"Enjoying the view, princess?" Sweet Pea smirked, causing Stevie to snap out of her thoughts and remove her hands from his face, reaching down to grab one of his large ones in her small hand.

"C'mon. Let's go down to the quarry. We need to get Toni if I have to deal with you and Fangs together." Stevie spoke, turning to grab her bag and lead Sweet Pea back inside of the school.

[omgjasminesimone]

The Hot Exchange Student Part 3

Logan x MC (Ellie)

Previous Part: Part 2

Next Part: Part 4

Author’s Note: This is longer than usual, and I didn’t get as far as I originally wanted to. Hopefully you guys like the longer length! One last RoDAW entry!

Summary: Logan is an exchange student from Detroit a month into his exchange program in L.A. Tensions rise with his detective host father as Logan becomes involved in L.A.’s criminal underbelly, while simultaneously becoming romantically involved with the detective’s daughter.

Word Count: ~4000

For a few moments no one speaks, a silent showdown. Mr. Wheeler is looking at his daughter with his ‘I’m not mad, I’m disappointed’ face, but when his stare turns to Logan sitting beside her, his face reads, ‘I’m both mad and disappointed’.

“Where were you guys?” Detective Wheeler finally asks.

“A car show.” Ellie answers.

“I was unaware they had car shows at 11:00 PM on Saturday nights. Did you mean an illegal sideshow?” Detective Wheeler prompts.

Ellie sighs, her shoulders slumping. “Yes.”

Detective Wheeler nods. “Despite the fact that you guys are grounded, and you’re only supposed to leave the house for school or if you’re studying.”  

Ellie deflates further. “…Yes.” She answers when her father looks like he’s waiting for a response.

Detective Wheeler turns his gaze to Logan, who is sitting beside Ellie defiantly, not looking remorseful in the least. “Anything you want to say Logan?” Detective Wheeler asks, narrowed eyes informing Logan that he’s looking for an apology.

He doesn’t get one. “Just that the three week grounding for missing a 10:00 curfew seemed a little excessive to me. Ellie is a good person. You can loosen the leash a little bit.”

Ellie winces at that response. Her dad is going to explode.

The cold, calm anger Detective Wheeler speaks with next is more terrifying than the rare occasions when he’s yelled at her. “You’ve been very disrespectful since you got here Logan. We’ve had several conversations about it, and your behavior has not changed. I think you’re a bad influence on Ellie, and I really don’t like that. If you’re going to live under my roof, you’re going to follow my rules. Otherwise, you can leave my house and go back to Detroit early. Are we clear?”

This is the first time Detective Wheeler has actually threatened to kick Logan out of the house. Logan’s jaw clenches as he fights his desire to retort. He chances a quick look at Ellie before he nods. “Crystal.”

“Good. I also want to speak to your parents about your behavior.” Detective Wheeler adds, leaning back in his recliner.

Logan hesitates, taking a breath before he finally speaks. “I can give you my current foster father’s phone number if you really want it, but I can promise you he’s not going to care. And most of the time his phone doesn’t work because he spends his whole social security check on beer before paying the bill.” Logan reveals.  

Foster care. That explains a lot. The lack of belongings. His aversion to parental authority. His ‘situation’ in Detroit. Ellie feels bad for him, but she tries to fight down that feeling. She knows Logan well enough to know that he doesn’t want her pity. That’s probably why he never told her.

“I’d still like his number.” Detective Wheeler says, pulling out his address book while Logan goes through his phone to pull up his contacts. Logan recites the number, and Detective Wheeler writes it down. “I’ll call him tomorrow since it’s so late, even later Central time. You guys should get to bed too.”

Ellie looks at her dad suspiciously. That’s it? Ellie starts to get up, but then her father speaks again.

“By the way, you guys are grounded for another 3 weeks. And this time, I mean it.”

…

..

.

Ellie’s phone pings as she and Logan watch a movie on the couch, her head resting on his shoulder. She sits up to grab it from the coffee table. It’s a text from her dad.

Dad: Peace signs by the refrigerator.

“Logan, peace signs by the refrigerator.” Ellie reports, standing up and heading towards the kitchen. Logan follows behind her, hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“This is so stupid.” He complains as they pose for the selfie. Ellie sees he’s flipping a bird in her camera screen as she prepares to take the photo.

“Logan.” She admonishes, so he lifts his index finger as well to make the peace sign her father has requested.

To enforce his grounding when he’s away at work, Ellie’s father requests specific poses somewhere in the house. That way, he knows they’re home like they’re supposed to be. This is their last day of grounding, but it hasn’t been all bad.

Ellie has gotten a lot of studying done over the three weeks, and more importantly, she’s had a lot of quality time to spend with Logan. He’s more open with her now, since he’s not trying to hide his background anymore.

Logan told her that he was born in prison. That he doesn’t know who his father is. That his mom is still in jail for all he knows, they’ve never had any contact.

He told her about his current foster father, an alcoholic with 6 foster kids in a small three bedroom trailer. Logan shares a small bedroom with a 15 year old foster brother, who Logan simply describes as ‘troubled’. Despite this, he tells her it’s actually one of his better placements.

That’s why when his high school counselor told him about the opportunity for a full ride scholarship for the exchange program, he jumped on it.

 (“She’s straight out of college. So she’s not jaded yet, she still cares.” Logan scoffs, drawing skulls on the toes of his chucks as they hang out on the porch. “That won’t last long.”)

Another reason why the grounding hasn’t been all bad is because they’ve found creative ways to work around it. Ellie and Logan signed up for an after school SAT prep class, and Logan convinced her to lie to her father about what time it ends, giving them 2 hours of free time each day after school. Well, Logan has 4 hours of free time because he doesn’t actually go to the class. She’s not sure exactly what he’s doing, he’s very vague about it when she asks.

Ellie feels bad about lying, she didn’t habitually lie to her father before Logan got here, but she does enjoy those 2 hours with Logan. Sometimes, they go to the beach. Or that diner she loves with Riya and Darius. But usually, that time is dedicated to driving practice. Ellie really want to pass her license test.

Since they’re already in the kitchen, Ellie pops another bag of popcorn before they return to the couch. “Do you feel ready for your driving test tomorrow?” Logan asks, watching her instead of the cheesy horror movie.

“I think I am.” She smiles up at him. “You’ve taught me well.”

..

Hmm, what to wear. Ellie is looking for an outfit that says, hey, this girl is a competent driver who totally deserves a license. She settles on a denim skirt and a white shirt that hangs off her shoulders. She’s putting her long hair into her usual braid when Logan knocks.

“Hey troublemaker. Change of plans. I’m sorry, but I can’t take you to your test. Something important came up.” He takes in her outfit. “Wow, you look great.”

She’s too annoyed with him to be flustered at the compliment. “What do you mean you can’t take me? I can’t ask my dad and rescheduling with the DMV would be an absolute nightmare.”

“You can take the car, just drive yourself.” Logan underhand tosses her the keys.

She catches them with both hands, “But, I don’t have my license! It’s illegal for me to drive by myself.”

“Just don’t get pulled over on the way there and you’ll be fine. You’re definitely going to pass. Come here, good luck hug, not that you need it.”

She wants to ask him what he’s doing that’s so important, but she doubts he would tell her. So she just walks over and hugs him. He smells really good. Like, vanilla-y? She tightens her grip around his muscled chest, burying her face into his shirt.

“Text me when you’ve passed.” Logan says as he pulls away after one last squeeze.

She is even more of a stickler for the rules than she usually is as she drives to the DMV, cars behind her getting annoyed with her since she’s actually under the speed limit. But she doesn’t get pulled over, and when she finishes her test the instructor says she’s the best beginner he’s ever seen. She’s passed.

Ellie smiles for her new license photo, and once it’s printed she takes a photo of the freshly minted license and texts it to Logan. He replies right away.

Logan: congrats!!

Logan: knew u could do it troublemaker

Ellie: Thank you! I’m very excited, if you couldn’t tell from the big cheesy grin on my license photo. :D

Ellie: Where are you? I can come pick you up, we can get a celebratory late lunch/early dinner.

The three dots indicating that Logan is typing starts, stops, and then starts again as he probably writes and deletes a message.

Logan: I’m actually at a drive-in movie theater

Logan: come meet me troublemaker 😉

His next text includes an address on Rosecrans. Ellie plugs it into her phone and takes her first licensed solo drive.

..

Ellie wanders the parking lot on foot. Logan told her to park on the street (they charge by car), and that she’s looking for a white van. But there are a lot of cars here. She looks around helplessly, pulling out her phone to text Logan again.

“You lost, sweetheart?”

Ellie turns to see who would use sweetheart in such a condescending manner. She’s met with a boy who looks to be around her age, dark hair, even darker eyes, dressed in a leather jacket and carrying a tub of popcorn. He seems  familiar for some reason.

“Maybe a little lost. Logan’s directions were a little vague.” She admits.

“Aah, you must be Ellie. Logan said you were coming.” He looks her up and down. “What is a girl like you doing hanging out with a lowlife like Logan?” Before Ellie can say anything in Logan’s defense, the boy walks off. Ellie assumes she should follow him.

He stops in front of an old white cargo van, opening the sliding door. Inside there’s Logan, a man with long hair, prominent neck tattoos, and glasses, an extremely tall woman, and another woman with long black hair and a piercing gaze all resting on bean bag chairs in the back.

“Hey Ellie, you made it.” Logan says, taking her hand to help her into the van. “Ellie, this is Toby, Ximena, Mona, and Colt.”

Toby and Ximena both give her a welcoming smile, while Mona just looks at her appraisingly. “Take a seat Ellie! Or you’re going to miss the best part!” Toby warns, eyes returning to the screen.

Ellie squeezes onto Logan’s bean bag chair, leg flush against his. “How’d you meet your friends?” She asks Logan softly.

“I wouldn’t say they’re my friends. Just coworkers I get along with. Well, I don’t always get along with Colt. But he’s just visiting Kaneko over his Fall Break.” Logan answers.

Ahh, so that’s why Colt looked familiar, he’s Kaneko’s son. Ellie’s brow furrows as she goes over the rest of his statement. “Coworkers? You have a job?”

His eyes widen slightly at his slip up. He gives her a measured glance, as if he’s deciding how much he should tell her. “I’m doing some work for Kaneko.”

Ellie’s blood runs cold, remembering how everyone feared Kaneko. Knowing that whatever work Kaneko is offering is probably criminal. What has Logan gotten himself into? “What kind of work?” She presses.

“Shh you two! Blown Gasket is playing!” Toby chastises, looking at the screen raptly during a car chase scene.  

Ellie shuts up, but not before giving Logan a look that clearly says the discussion isn’t over.

Colt scoffs at Toby’s enthusiasm. “Calm down Toby. You’ve only seen this stupid movie fifty times.”

“No one forced you to come Kaneko Jr.” Mona retorts, not even bothering to turn away from the screen to look at Colt.

“My dad wanted everyone out of the garage while he does whatever he’s doing, especially me.” Colt replies.

Logan leans over slightly to whisper in Ellie’s ear, not wanting Toby’s wrath. “Does your dad know where we are?”

“I just told him we’re out with friends. We’re not grounded anymore, so he was fine with it.” Ellie whispers back.

Half an hour later, Ellie finishes the last of the popcorn in the extra large tub. She starts to put the empty tub down on the floor, when Ximena interjects. “Nuh uh sweetie. Whoever finishes it gets the next refill.”

Toby gives Ellie a $100 bill. “Does anyone have anything smaller?” Ellie asks, standing from the bean bag chair and heading for the door.  

“Nope.” Mona responds, opening the door for Ellie.

Ellie is walking across the lot towards the concession stand when suddenly someone steps in front of her, blocking her path. Ellie looks up and is met with Salazar’s smirking face. “I can’t believe it, real nice of you to join us.” Salazar sneers.

“Salazar…” Ellie mumbles, dropping the popcorn bucket and turning around to head back to the van when Salazar steps towards her menacingly. Ellie’s escape path is cut off by the same four goons who had accompanied Salazar when he lost the race.

“I heard the Mercy Park Crew was hanging around here, came to see for myself.” He spits out when he reaches her. Mercy Park Crew? Ellie has no idea what he’s talking about. “Your boyfriend owes me money for what he did, lots of it.”

“You lost the race. You both agreed on the terms.” Ellie mutters weakly, looking around for a possible escape but finding nothing.

“I don’t remember him stealing the opportunity I had with Kaneko being one of the terms. I worked hard to build respect in the streets, to make a name for myself, and now some punk kid shows up and gets everything handed to him? That’s bullshit.” He turns to the biggest goon. “Grab her. He’ll pay to get her back.”

“No!” Ellie tries to fight off the heavily tattooed man gripping her arm roughly, but he’s twice her size so she doesn’t stand a chance.

“Get away from her. You got a problem with me, you leave her out of it.” Logan’s voice has a dangerous edge to it that Ellie has never heard before. The goon looks to Salazar, waiting for a small nod, before releasing her.

Ellie quickly retreats to Logan’s side, and he gently pushes her behind him. Salazar smirks, eyeing Logan venomously. “Now it’s a party.”

The goons close in, encircling Logan. Logan clenches his fists, gearing up for a fight.

“No, Logan! You can’t fight them five on one. We need to run.” Ellie reasons.

He briefly turns to look at her, his gaze hard. “You need to run. Now.” He swings his fist at the nearest goon, rocking his jaw.

That goon goes down, clutching his jaw, but one of the others cries “Get him!”, and the remaining goons and Salazar attack all at once. Ellie doesn’t run as instructed, instead she looks on worriedly as Logan fights like an animal, punching, grappling, slamming.

Her heart hurts a little as she wonders where he learned to fight like this. Was it a particularly abusive group home? Out on the streets of Detroit? He holds his own for a while, but eventually he can’t fend them all off and they get him down to the ground.

“You piece of shit.” Salazar sneers, kicking Logan hard in the ribs, again, and again. Ellie can’t take anymore, so she grabs a forgotten pipe on the asphalt as she runs towards the melee.

“Stop it!” She cries, swinging as hard as she can into Salazar’s back. He topples over with a grunt.

Salazar glares at her. “You little bitch.” Logan takes advantage of Salazar being momentarily preoccupied, kicking straight into one of the goon’s chin. He falls with a yelp. But another goon grabs Ellie, throwing her roughly into a car door. Ellie feels a searing pain from her forehead, raising her hand to grasp at it. When she brings her hand back down, there’s blood on her palm. “Nnh.” She mutters weakly, putting both hands to the asphalt in an attempt to get back to her feet.

“Ellie!” Logan exclaims. He’s covered in bruises, but he tries to push himself up anyway. He is quickly beaten back down.

Salazar gets to his feet, dusting himself off. “You don’t know who you messed with.” He threatens, readying to stomp down on Logan.

Suddenly, a razor sharp knife flicks to Salazar’s throat, Mona appears behind him with Toby, Colt, and Ximena, all looking very threatening. Ellie is surprised Toby can pull off such a menacing look.

“Do you?” Mona asks, allowing the blade to dig in a little more. Salazar lowers his foot, putting his hands up, knowing he’s been beaten. “Don’t show your faces here again.” Mona threatens, shoving Salazar away. Salazar glares at Ellie and Logan one more time before stalking away, his injured goons following behind him.

Colt offers Logan a hand up. “You’re pretty lucky I saved your ass, huh? Pshh…and dad thinks you could replace me.”

Logan ignores Colt’s hand, getting up on his own. “Funny, I don’t feel too lucky right about now. Where’s Ellie?”

“Logan!” Ellie runs to the group, taking Logan’s face into her hands and gently examining the bruising, the worst of it around his right eye, which is swollen shut. He smiles weakly at her, apologetically. Ellie sighs, gently rubbing her thumb on his cheek. “We need to get you home Logan.”

She turns towards the others. “Thank you for saving him.”

Colt smirks, crossing his arms over his chest. “Consider it Mercy Park Crew community service.”

…

..

.

“Ellie? Logan?” Her dad’s voice carries from the kitchen as Ellie opens the front door and the door alarm chimes shortly.

“Hey Dad, we’re home.” Ellie calls back, trying to tug Logan up the stairs before her dad sees his bruises, which will no doubt lead to questions they’re unprepared to answer.

“Dinner is almost ready!” Her dad calls back. The smell of his home made spaghetti permeates the air.

“Okay! We’ll be down shortly!” Ellie yells from the top of the stairs, pulling Logan into his room. She pulls the door almost closed behind them, leaving it open just a crack. That’s another one of her dad’s rules, she and Logan aren’t allowed to be in a room together with the door closed.

Ellie pulls the first aid kid from the closet. “Sit.” She commands, so Logan takes a seat on his bed. Ellie turns the lamp beside the bed on, bathing Logan in its soft glow. For the first time she sees how badly injured he is. She sighs, taking a seat beside him. “You shouldn’t have gone through all that trouble for me.”

“What are you talking about? They never would have gone after you if it wasn’t for me. So yes, I did” Logan insists. Ellie tenderly touches Logan’s face, and he tries to hide his wince, but she sees it. He places his hand over hers before she can pull back. “I’m fine Ellie. I’ve been in worse fights. They only got a few licks in.”

They clearly got more than a few licks in, but Ellie doesn’t argue with him. Instead, she opens the first aid kit. She remembers watching Salazar kick him in the ribs, knowing they’re probably seriously injured. “Can you take off your shirt?” She asks softly.

He peels off the white t-shirt, wincing a little at the movement, and tosses the shirt to the floor. He keeps the spark plug necklace he’s always wearing on.

She’s felt how toned he is when they’ve hugged, but it’s an entirely different experience to see all his taut muscles exposed in the low light of the lamp. But before she can become too distracted by his amazing body and six pack abs, she notices the dark purple bruising all over his sides. And beneath that, the scars from the car accident he told her about when he was teaching her to drive, making her promise to always be in control.    

Ellie grabs the peroxide from the kit and dabs it on a long gash running down his collarbone. “Fuck, that stings.” Logan complains, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries not to pull away from her.

“I’m sorry.” She apologizes, placing a soft kiss to the tan skin near the gash without even thinking about it. But she notices his soft intake of breath and realizes what she just did. She slowly raises her gaze to meet his.

Something electric passes between them, and then Logan’s eyes go up further, to the cut on her forehead. He pushes her hair out of her face and traces it, his touch gentler than she could ever expect from the same boy she saw just a half hour earlier fighting the goons so viciously.

“You’re hurt.” He observes.

“I’m fine. You’re the one who’s hurt.” She retorts, knocking his hand aside and getting back to her task of bandaging up the cut.

He shakes his head softly, watching her as she starts to bandage up his ribs. “You should have run Ellie. Why didn’t you run like I told you to?” Logan admonishes.

“I couldn’t just leave you there Logan.”

“You have to. You have to be able to leave me Ellie. Otherwise…” He trails off, turning away from her.

“Otherwise what? Logan?” When he still doesn’t respond, she puts both hands on his face and forces him to make eye contact. “What are you trying to tell me Logan?” She asks softly, looking deeply into his brown eyes.

Suddenly, he surges forward, lips capturing hers in a searing kiss.

Oh my God, he’s kissing her. She’s having her first kiss. She’ll have to call Riya later, her long-time best friend will want to know about this. Logan’s hands tangle in her hair, tilting her head as he attempts to deepen the kiss. Ellie doesn’t know what to do with her hands, she starts to put them on his strong bare shoulders, but chickens out at the last moment and let’s them fall back to her sides.

Wait, he’s licking at her lips now. Does that mean something? Does he want her to open her mouth? Is she ready for that? What if she’s a bad kisser? Is she totally embarrassing herself?  

Logan pulls away from her lips, resting his forehead against hers as both of their eyes open. “You’re overthinking this.”

“I overthink everything.”

Logan smiles softly at that response, giving her a quick peck. “Just relax. Do what feels natural. Trust me Ellie, there’s nothing you can do that I won’t like.” He closes his eyes and kisses her again, and Ellie takes his advice. She doesn’t think, she does what feels natural. Ellie’s hands trail up his arms to loop around his neck, pulling herself closer to him. He opens his mouth, and because of the way their wet lips are staggered, her mouth opens too, allowing him to slip his tongue in.

It’s an unfamiliar sensation, but she decides she likes it. She tentatively circles his tongue with her own, and he hums appreciatively. Despite his injuries, he pulls her onto his lap, letting her straddle him. He pulls back to give her time to breathe, kissing down her neck and across her collar bone.  

She tangles her fingers in his hair. It’s as soft as she always imagined it would be. Logan’s name escapes her lips on a breathy sigh as he sucks on her collar bone, marking her. He returns to her lips, kissing her more forcefully, hand pressed to her lower back to pull her even closer.

“Dinner!” Detective Wheeler calls from downstairs, causing the two teens to quickly spring away from each other, remembering where they are.

“We can’t let him see you like this. I’ll tell him you’re tired and skipping dinner. I’ll bring up your food later. Hopefully your eye will be less swollen tomorrow, we’ll put some concealer on your bruises.” Ellie plans out loud.

Logan smiles softly, really wanting to kiss her again. “Sounds like a plan troublemaker.” She turns to head downstairs. “Wait!” Logan calls out, reaching for her hand. He gently pulls her back to him and tugs her shirt up a little, covering the hickey forming on her collar bone. “Okay, you can go now.”

…

..

.

Taglist: @choicesarehard @ifyouseekheart @brightpinkpeppercorn @regina-and-happiness @choicelogansbitch @flyawayboo @fairydustandsarcasm @alesana45 @umiumichan @maxwellsquidsuit @lahelable @god-save-the-keen @mrsmckenziesworld @paisleylovergirl @iplaydrake @sinclaire-made-me-sin @hazah @lovehugsandcandy @desiree-0816 @cora-nova @justdani14 @lady-dianelewis @emceesynonymroll @emichelle @badchoicesposts @client-327 @riverrune @liamzigmichael4ever @princessstellaris

[graybeards]

A Gentlemen’s Bet

“How about we make things interesting?” John suggested, his chapped lips pressed into a devious sneer. “I’ll give you once last chance. I’ll let you raise me to all in.” His deep voice commanded the room, drawing all eyes to him. He was a real man’s man, pushing 50 with crisp blue eyes, a thick head of gray hair, and a gut stretching the middle of his polo shirt.

I narrowed my eyes and pointed out, “But I don’t have anything else to bet.” Every dollar my wife had let me bring was already in the pot. But he had my attention, even Hank and Greg sidled back up the table to see if I could pull out the win and take home the cash John had already won off them.

John leaned back in his chair, savoring my poorly-concealed desperation, and finally said, “You know, you’ve always had a big mouth. Gossip like a girl and talk a bigger game than you ever bring.” The guys leaned in interestedly, but I was wary. He went on, “So put that mouth in the pot and we’ll settle this.”

“My mouth?” I repeated, baffled.

“If I win, I get to put your big mouth to work on my big dick,” he declared, raising his voice over Hank and Greg’s uproarious laughter. 

Rolling my eyes, I said, “Don’t be an asshole. It’s seriously not funny.”

“Yeah. I’m not kidding,” John smugly declared. “Are you in or not?” The whole room went quiet until I could hear my heart pounding. I anxiously inspected my hand, a Jack high straight, and thought of the nearly $2,000 at stake. He was just fucking with me, I thought. He just wanted to rattle me and I wasn’t about to flinch first.

“You’ve got a deal,” I replied. “All-in it is.”

My eyes went wide as he pushed every dollar he’d won into the pot and said, “Let’s see ‘em then.” 

I trembled as I lay my cards on the table. I tried to be confident, but my words came out in a whisper, “Jack high straight.” I almost jumped for joy when John frowned, but when our eyes met, the corners of his mouth rose into a grin as he lay down a Queen high straight.

Nobody said a word as John and I stared at each other. He drank in the sight of my crestfallen face and dominated my gaze until I lowered my eyes to the table. John broke out into a gleeful smile and said, “Looks like all’s left is for me to claim my winnings. You guys want to watch?”

Hank and Greg just looked over at me and slowly, horrifyingly smirked. I stood up on shaky legs and stammered, “Well, I should get going. Good game, guys. I had—”

Greg raised a silencing hand. He was the host, a king in his own castle, and he said, “A bet’s a bet, man. You’ve gotta settle up.”

John pushed his chair back and spread his legs, fondling the sizable bulge in his jeans. He suggested, “Why don’t you get the three of us another round of beers before you start, cocksucker?”

Hank nodded in agreement and said, “I’ll actually have a bourbon on the rocks.”

The three men stared at me expectantly until, in a daze, I glided to the bar. They grinned at each other as I poured and returned with a round of drinks. John shook his head when I raised my beer to my lips, and he said, “Now, now, you’ve got work to do so I’ll have that.” The man held out his hand until I reluctantly pressed my glass into it and was rewarded by his deep voice rumbling, “Good boy.”

“Fuck you guys,” I sighed as I sank to my knees at my best friends’ feet as they shuffled their chairs close around me. I scooted forward between John’s widespread legs and reached out toward his belt, but he grabbed my wrist in his powerful hand.

They all chuckled as he said, “Well, aren’t you eager. But I need a little more romancing than that. Why don’t you strip for us, slut?”

“Oh come on,” I protested, but quickly succumbed. I unbuttoned my shirt, slowly revealing a chest still smooth and slender as it was when I was in my twenties. Greg whistled appreciatively and rubbed his hand over his own crotch. I blushed and sighed, but discarded the shirt and went to work on my jeans. It would only get worse when they saw my briefs.

Hank snorted into his bourbon when he caught glimpse of my tight-fitting, bright red briefs, and he taunted, “Damn, I wish my wife wore panties half that nice.” The others murmured in agreement but I just kept my eyes down as I peeled off my jeans.

Stripped down to my briefs, I looked up at John’s mocking face as he slowly shook his head and commanded, “Lose the panties.” I wanted to run, to storm out, but the sternness of the man’s voice as he stared down at me broke my resistance. I pulled my briefs down my legs and threw them aside, finally kneeling naked between my three best friends with my diminutive manhood on display. John smiled with a strange sort of warmth and said, “Perfect.”

It wasn’t the first time any of us had seen each other naked, but it was far different. I was reduced. The three men seemed to swell and tower over me as I became less than. I should have felt humiliated, but mostly I just felt eager. When John nodded his approval and allowed me to unbuckle his belt, I felt a shameful flood of excitement.

His body was warm beneath my fingertips as I struggle to unbutton his jeans and unzip his fly. He lifted himself to let me slide them down around his ankles and reveal a pair of flannel boxers bulging with the John’s still soft and much renowned cock. The wives remarked about it on occasion, in their sideways fashion. We’d all seen it, but only soft. Even so it hung about half a foot down his thigh and I found myself wondering just how much the thing could grow.

I fished him through the fly of his boxers as he gulped down the last drops of my beer and grinned at our buddies. I could feel their hot breath on my shoulders as they leaned in to watch. John’s cock gushed the sweaty, pheromone-rich smell of a long day into my nostrils. I winced at the stench, but my mouth watered nonetheless. His icy eyes met mine as he grabbed his big floppy dick in one hand and the back of my head in the other.

The meaty mushroom at the tip of his shaft squished against my closed lips, smearing them with a sheen of the man’s precum. “Open up, princess,” John demanded.

“Fuck—” I started to say, but he shoved himself inside me and let me feel the immense heft of his manhood depressing my tongue. He pulled me close, burying my nose in his pungent boxers and letting his still-soft cock tickle my throat. 

John let out a moan and he grunted, “Damn, his mouth was made for this.”

“It feels good?” Greg asked in a strained, eager voice.

“Like a pussy on his face,” John chuckled. “Those big, full lips are squeezing me and damn… that tongue.” I hadn’t realized what I was doing, but he was right. My lips were massaging the base of his shaft as my tongue teased along its massive underbelly, and with every moment I felt his flesh stiffen and swell. His floppy cock reached down into my throat just before it began to firm up. As he thickened, he stretched me open around him and held my head in his lap. “Fuck. I’m going to bust the biggest nut down his throat.”

“Fuck yeah,” Hank muttered close to my ear, “is it weird that I’m getting hard just watching this?”

“You’re not the only one,” Greg admitted with a laugh. “He looks like a little bitch on his knees like that, doesn’t he?” He put a hand on my back and pushed me harder into John’s crotch as I gagged, sputtering up spit that just lubed his cock. John started fucking my face, holding my head in both hands and using me like a fleshlight.

“He’s actually got a nice ass too,” Hank whispered, grabbing a fistful of my cheek and rubbing a thick finger against my virgin hole. “You ever fuck a girl in the ass?”

John let out a pleasurable sigh before he said, “Jess let me one time, but she barely lasted five minutes before she made me stop.”

Greg laughed and said, “Well, yeah, you’re hung like a fucking moose. I actually spent my whole freshman year fucking my roommate since it beat jerking off when I got horny.”

“Damn,” Hank exclaimed, “that’s a good point. I’ve always wondered what it felt like, but Beth would never go for it.”

John ruffled my hair and said, “I bet this bitch wouldn’t mind having her pussy popped open. What do you think, slut?”

For the first time in almost five minutes, he let me pull my lips up off his cock. Looking down, the enormity of the man finally sunk in as I watched almost nine inches of flesh slide out of me like a perverted magic trick, leaving my throat with a foreign feeling of longing emptiness. I sputtered and protested, “Guys, I’ve never done anything like that. I don’t know about—”

Hank had pulled over an ottoman and Greg grabbed me by the hips and lifted me up off the ground, burying my face against John’s thigh. Hank slid the ottoman under my chest so I was bent over it with my knees hanging just off the ground. He hurriedly came behind me, kicking my feet to the side as he kneeled and hugged his body over mine. He ran his fingers over my ass as he whispered, “Come on, baby. We all see the way you’re slobbering on John. We always wondered about you, and now the secret’s out. It’s gonna feel good. I promise.”

I let out a little moan when Hank rubbed his bulging jeans against my bare ass, and the guys all grinned. John declared, “Sounds like someone’s horny for more cock, Hank. Why don’t you indulge him?” John grabbed me and shoved his dripping wet manhood back down my throat, and I heard the telltale sound of unzipping jeans just before Hank rubbed his slick, hard cock against my clenched hole.

“It helps if you eat him out, especially if he’s a virgin,” Greg offered.

Hank scoffed, “Man, isn’t that a little gross?”

“Naw, man. It’s fucking fun. Here, let me get him ready for you,” Greg said as he pushed him out of the way and knelt behind me. His thick scruff scraped against my smooth cheeks just before he ran his tongue over my hole. Despite myself, I moaned around John’s cock and it just egged the men on. I clenched my fingers into John’s thighs as Greg bashed his tongue against me, battering at the door eager to slide into me. “His pussy tastes fucking great,” he mumbled into me.

In the same moment, John pushed back down my throat and Greg’s tongue breached my unyielding ass. I trembled with the flood of sensation as my friend stretched me open.

“Oh fuck,” John growled through clenched teeth, “he’s milking the shit out of me. I’m gonna cum.” His words didn’t fill me with anger, disgust, or even relief. Instead, my skin tingled with anticipation as I felt his shaft pulse against my lips. A rush of cum flooded into my throat, and when his hand went limp, I pulled back, not out of a desire to escape but an urge to soak my tongue and coat my mouth with the man’s hot, thick seed.

He fed me mouthfuls of the ropy white goop, leaning back in his chair with occasional spasms of pleasure as his potent cock pumped out a fresh burst. All three of the men bellowed taunts and jeers, but I was deaf to everything but the flood filling my stomach. I didn’t even notice when it ended, when I was uselessly suckling at a dry shaft, until John ran his fingers through my hair and pulled my lips close until they were tight around the base of his softening member.

“Is his ass ready?” Hank’s eager voice broke my trance. I suddenly noticed the fullness of Greg’s tongue inside me when he pulled it out and made way. Hank grabbed my hips and used that leverage to power a merciless thrust that sent his cock blowing past my loosened hole into the depths of my virgin tunnel. 

I howled around John’s flesh, squirming against the men until Greg mounted me, sitting astride my back to pin me to the ground. My hands scrambled until John grabbed me by the wrists and pressed them to his thighs. I was utterly helpless to Hank’s primal rutting inside me.

“Definitely a virgin,” Greg chuckled as he lay his rigid cock across my back. Hank bottomed out inside me and bucked up against the heavy man atop me, but Greg just let his weight sink down as he smacked his manhood against my soft skin. He snorted, “He’s a good ride though. Nice and spirited.”

John laughed, “He’ll be broken by the time the night’s over.”

“I’ve never fucked a hole like this,” Hank said. “His ass keeps trying to push me out, but it just feels like fucking heaven on my dick.”

“Damn,” John muttered, “I’ll have to try that next time.”

“Right?” Greg agreed. “He’s definitely gonna be our poker pussyboy from now on. Aren’t you, girl?” He patted me on the head. “Kneeling under the table while the men play.”

“Oh man, that’s weirdly hot,” Hank rasped. “I think I’m gonna cum.” His heavy hips slammed into my butt hard enough to leave a bruise, never resting for long.

Greg whipped his cock against my back between strokes and his voice was strained when he said, “I’ll try to finish at the same time.” Hank’s guttural groan came quickly, and Greg echoed it a few seconds later. John humped his soft cock back into my throat and the constant smell of his crotch was blocked from my nose. Hank’s nuts slapped against my ass one last time before his manhood started filling my virgin hole with his breeding juice. A long rope of cum burst from Greg, trailing from the back of my head halfway down my back, and it was followed by many more until warm goo coated my shoulders and neck.

All the while, I could do nothing but wiggle underneath the three men as my rigid little dick spilled its bounty on the ottoman. I wanted to rage, to fight back, but the notion felt so far away at that point. A quiet, but growing, part of me wanted more. It liked this feeling, this humiliation and disempowerment. There’s a peace of mind in submission, and it was proving intoxicating.

It was many minutes before my best friends untangled from my cum-filled and drenched body, standing with flaccid cocks hanging out of their jeans and going on as if nothing just happened. When I slowly rose, Greg’s load traveled down my back in thick rivulets. Hank’s dripped from my stretched hole. John’s settled in my stomach and what was left outside me already dried on my face.

The three regarded me with lascivious grins, no longer seeing me as the fourth amigo, but instead as a dominated bitch to be used. It was a strange feeling, to be finally seen for the person I’ve always known myself to be. 

John grunted, “You look like you could use that drink.”

“Yeah,” I said in a small voice with an exhausted smile. “That was pretty intense.”

“Sure thing. I’m just about done with it,” he boomed and lowered his bottle mouth to the tip of his cock. I watched, transfixed, as his stream began to flow, rapidly recycling the beer back into its bottle. Hank and Greg grabbed empties and began brewing their own drinks for me. John just grinned at my forlorn expression until his piss overflowed from the bottle and puddled on the floor in front of him.

John offered the bottle to me but I just shook my head. He laughed and said, “Your choice, but I sure got plenty of pictures of you with my big dick down your throat. Wouldn’t it be a shame if those got around?” I stared down at the offered bottle and hesitantly accepted it. John insisted, “Now let’s see you gulp this one down. We were nice enough to brew you up something and now we want to see you enjoy it.”

I pressed the bottle to my lips, tasting the man’s potent piss on the rim. I paused, and John pressed his fingertips to the bottle and slowly tipped it toward my mouth. The flavor filled my mouth, making me cough and sputter as I struggled to shotgun the warm, bitter drink. They all grinned and laugh, savoring the sight of my ultimate emasculation. I choked on the last gulp.

“Nice job, pussyboy,” Greg praised, patting me on the shoulder as he pressed his bottle into my other hand. “Now drink up. And don’t forget to lick up everything John spilled. Only polite to leave my house clean as you found it.”

Warm bottle against my palm. Perverse grins on my friends’ faces. Seed swishing around my insides. It was all so wrong, but it felt so right, and the only protest I managed to muster was a meekly whispered, “Yes, sir.” 

I’d lost the bet, but in truth, I hadn’t put up anything I wasn’t willing to lose.

[the-infamous-mister-gates]

The Fury of Mother Bangkok

          There’s a reason why you dream what you dream. It’s something you hope for, but know that you’ll never get it. It will never happen. I learned a long time ago that it wasn’t about capturing a dream…

          It was about chasing it.

         There was one dream I had, where I would be laying in a wide-open wheat field looking up at the orange twilight of the engulfing dusk.  A spacious blue sky littered with pink clouds shaped like mythic beings: dragons, slithering in the crisp air; a mighty phoenix, its wings spread over the horizon; angel eyes made of fire, burning with intense love and mystery. The poetic existence of all these mesmerizing creatures broke into obscurity in the wake of the night.

         There was nothing to chase in a peaceful dream like that. I could find books detailing symbolism, analogies, and possible meanings, but in a way that would spoil what I already have: A vivid realm different from my life that I could escape to.

.   .   .   .

         There were poets and dancers. There were male escorts and silver tongue pimps. There was the underbelly that smelled of cheap cigars, body spray fragrances, and ammonia. Neon lights reflected in marble polished columns and chrome bar counters. A jugular of festive business men stroking the legs of servers, who brought mixed refreshments poured in glittering glasses.   Entertainers were situated in the center of the abyssal ballroom where masked men and women copulated in a pit of velvet ambrosia.

         Many people came here to witness the cross-cultured display of feverous engorge; the execrable wonders of snakes molesting women in a pool of cloudy water.  Spotlights and stage lights spraying the bodies with a gleam of patronage, unwilling to remove their ethereal stare like a perverted God in the absence of an unforgiving way of life. Off-duty cops and underage girls drinking in leather booths where stains of blood and cum reside under their feet.

         I stand between it all, the lone American among the locals of a foreign city, with scars on my body hidden from sight until the audience is worthy to see them.  I don’t know what year this is or what day of the week it could be, let alone the month.  I did not exist for those things.  I lived in the now. Not the past or the future.  I traded a moment for a moment with brutality and blackouts; the occasional companion and the mornings after.

Excess, no less

Pushing fingers into flesh

Zealous, Jealous

Devil woman tell us

       Heavy synth music matches my pulse as I gaze over the occupants.  Some were laughing and talking, others motioning some to go under the tables and unbutton their pants.  Disco ball lights and shining stars reflecting in the glass frames of an elder gentleman petting a young man with cold sores on his lips and bruises on his face.

         My eyes see the truth in the complex feeding off of Mother Bangkok, the place where we go to die and be reborn in a stew of depravity. If I could cut open all these people and spill their guts, all there would be is sludge and gunk within. These incestuous machines eating and throwing up one another over candle lit tables, calling it love and nurturing, filling their wombs with worms and digesting fluids from oozing statuettes.

         I can see the show in the middle conclude.  A wave of applause scatters around as the horny little masked performers walk off the center stage. The custodian boys run quickly to clean the stage for the next act. I turn my head to the main bar.  The man there looks at me and raises his hand displaying five fingers to remind me of the time I have left until show time. I nod to him subtlety.  I walked away from the main scene to the bathrooms. I approached the urinal and relieved myself. I noticed graffiti on the rustic green wall:

Mother Superior sucked me off twice

And Daddy Vader put me in a vice

And so it all goes

Long live the show

It’s a maze and we’re the mice

         I flushed the urinal and walked up to the restroom sink.  My senses begin to absorb the surrounding nuances in the restroom:  The flickering of the half-broken florescent bulb above my head; the buzzing of the mating flies in the top corner window; the boosted bass of the outside bar music; the vacant reflection looking back at me in the fractured mirror.

   I crack my neck and my back loudly. I wash my hands thoroughly. I pull out some paper towels and dry my hands completely. I look at myself in the mirror.  I flex my arms and raise them in front of my asymmetrical face. I crack my fingers and my back again. I roll my shoulders and slap my face. I smack the paper towel dispenser and walk out. I go through the back dressing rooms. The blind masseur was loosening the muscles of the performers as I walk past the dark rooms where questionable things happen all the time.

   Before I walk out into the main stage, I look to my right and see her: a slim young woman in a blood red dress and dark make-up.  Her southeastern Asian complexion glossed with natural shine. She looked at me worrisomely.  I stared back and winked.  She forced a small smile in return. At that moment, ear-encapsulating electronica music summoned my presence into the small area of the central stage where just previously, seven people were fucking each other for a hundred people to see. As I walked out, cheers and hollers of praise could be heard, accompanied with an equal amount of boos and detestable rants. I removed my suit jacket and shirt when I walked into the middle stage. The spotlight beamed down on my body like an alien ship. I rolled my head and loosened my body, revealing the gratuitous scars over my muscular definition and vascularity, inflicted from past fights and brawls.

         My opponent was a massive South Korean thug for a local black market operation. He sat in a chair, infuriated and tense like some savage giant.  The bartender walks into the middle and calls for us to enter the center.  My opponent stands up. He’s tall, I’ll give him that, but there is no way he’s fast.

   The barkeep says his name is Dae-Su. As the fight is approved, Dae-Su lunges forward and tries to grab me with both his arms. Stupid first move.  I saw that coming a mile away.  I duck and swoop around, planting my hard knuckles into his side.  He swings around; I duck again.  He grabs a chair and hurls it towards me.  I raise my arms up and try to block the shattering wood.  I fall over, anyone would.  Dae-Su kicks me in the chest.  I can hear the cheering over the booming music. You would think this happens so fast, but to me, it’s like fighting on the moon.  I feel weightless and serene.  The sound is muffled over the vacuum of space.  Everything moves in slow motion: the blood, the fists, and the crowd; it’s beautiful.

         I grab a beer bottle and break it over Dae-Su’s fat head.  I see some blood fly as he yells in pain, trying to cover his face.  I raise my arm up and punch him right in the left temple.  He goes down but gets back up.  Dae-Su stumbles like a hippo with Down syndrome.  I thrust my knuckles into the side of his face and watch as a patch of skin is ripped open by the sheer velocity of my strength.  I knock him to the floor. The crowd demands I finish him.  They want me to fuel their bloodlust.

   I was their vicarious avatar for relentless rage. They didn’t see some goon getting beat up.  They saw their bosses, their daughter’s boyfriend, their wives, their school rivals, their wives’ lovers, their father, their mother, their church pastor. They even saw God there being pulverized and beaten to a pulp by me.  By the time I’m done, Dae-Su’s face looks like the inside of a cherry pie.

   I stand up from Dae-Su’s body. The cheering pencil-pushers and government officials soon begin to really look at what I’ve done.  The voices cease into an eerie silence that welcomes the feuding guilt to twist their stomachs.  Noticing the change in atmosphere, the club music of Mother Bangkok turns back on as a couple of guys take Dae-Su’s body to the back.  I look over the silent faces, all blinking and coming to terms with what they just experienced and how they felt about it: They enjoyed it.  They would be back for more no matter how appalled they might feel or how drunk they are.

Meretricious and vicious

Her lips so delicious

Crimson red, silky bed

Sins welcoming the dead

               I pull a towel from the back room and head upstairs.  I live in one of the many apartments above Mother Bangkok.  In my room waiting is my little diva singer.  Her red dress hung over my desk chair. She’s waiting for me on my bed.  She helps me in and puts me to sleep, watching me and cleaning my wounds.

   This place hidden from the all-seeing eyes, but seen from those with all views of humanity, my iron-crafted home where fury bludgeons the underground dwellers and profiteers as souls, deplete and run dry like a desert thirst.

   Among Elephant Kings and She-male prostitutes, I’m a wanderer and deserter with no dreams that can soothe the painful embrace of such a hell.  The diva’s touch keeps the wrath of the begging dragon at bay, but the dreams I pursue nourish my longing.

   How simple a dream is to obtain when it’s the sky of your home far away.  The voices of Mother Bangkok tempt and revitalize, never letting go, but infuriating my sole purpose to fight, to please and satisfy.  The Diva and I, both are children to a Dragon and a Fury that birthed the cataclysmic endeavor of lost dreams and never-ending brawls.

   My dream has been captured, and I go on chasing it and the ones that have claimed it.

[londone-fog]

The Light Will Guide You Home- It Star Wars AU

AO3 Link

I. II.

Long ago, in a galaxy far, far away…

Darkness is on the rise. Darth Assem the Wise has begun gradually over taking the galaxy with his Neibolt Regime. As his power grows, so does the power of his apprentice, the fearsome Darth Fide. With the demolition of the Jedi, the public is quickly losing hope.

Meanwhile, General Marsh and the Rebel Alliance struggle to keep the Regime on a short leash. With the rumor of a hidden Neibolt base on the abandoned Sith planet Korriban, they have made quick plans to follow up on the intel.

All they can do now is hope the force is with them...

III.

Stan woke up on their fifth day of capture to Ben pacing a rivet in the floor of their cell. Just like the day before. And even the day before that.

His head was still pounding slightly with the trauma of having his head slammed against the side of an x-wing. The bleeding had stopped long ago, but flecks of red still clung to his dusty curls. That, and Ben nattering on to himself did nothing to help the cantina band screaming in Stan’s skull.

They were both absolutely nasty, in Stan’s opinion. He had blood and grit caked in his hair, and the hot desert had his shirt soaked in sweat. Ben was in a similar way, the top of his orange flight suit tied around his waist. His white undershirt was stained with dirt and blood from his most recent interrogation. Ben hadn’t spoken much about what he’d endured, but he had a sizable gash in his belly when they threw him back in the cell. Stan had tried his best to patch him up using scraps of both of their uniforms, but it was not necessarily a fruitful endeavor.

“Hey Stan, I’m curious about something.” Ben had finally stopped pacing and instead stood over Stan, an unreadable look about his brow.

“Sure, Haystack. Shoot.”

“That sith- Darth Fucky, or whatever his name is- he mentioned you a lot. How does he know you so well?”

Stan’s insides froze, ice creeping up the inside of his throat.

“Not to be that guy, but literally everyone on this base probably knows who I am. Got that whole ‘best pilot in the Rebel Alliance’ thing going on.”

“I dunno about that, Stan. He got kinda… weirdly personal. Like, you’d only know that stuff if you really know someone.”

“You know me.”

“Yeah, sort of. I don’t where you came from. I don’t know anything about your childhood or your parents. You just sort of showed up one day. That guy knew those things.”

Stan couldn’t give him an answer. Everything Ben said was true, and Stan knew why. He hated it, had worked his entire life to conceal it.

Him and Darth Fide knew each other, and had for a long time. They had been childhood friends. The only friend that Fide had spared when he left the Jedi Temple and it’s students in ruin. Stan had watched on helplessly as his best friend had destroyed everything they had worked to be part of together. As the boy he’d known as Richie Tozier was left to perish alongside their future as Jedi.

Stan spent his whole life running from his past, and it still caught up with him.

“Stan?” Ben was still standing there.

“I don’t know how he knows, Ben. Maybe he used the force or something. You figure it out.”    

Ben’s lips flattened in an uncharacteristic line, but he shambled away to continue his pacing.

Stan hadn’t thought about Richie hardly at all since he joined the Resistance.  He’d buried all of the painful memories so far that he sometimes forgot who he was before he became a pilot. He even sometimes forgot that he was one of the few left in the galaxy that could make the force bend to his will. He couldn’t very well just tell Ben this; that would defeat the entire purpose of keeping it secret. He would be lying if he said the force didn’t make him as great a flier as he was.

A thought suddenly struck Stan’s mind, pinging around like a blaster shot. He was sure that the metal bars of their cell were some type of metal, nothing profoundly intense. If he really concentrated, harder than he had in years, he could most likely bend the bars enough for them to slip through. But something big held him back.

Stan would have to reveal to Ben that he was a force user, and Stan wasn’t exactly sure if he was ready for that sort of disclosure. He then felt immediately stupid. Would he be willing risk their lives just to protect a secret from one man?

But before Stan could even decide whether to get up or not, they heard a clang against the door to the cell. There stood a stormtrooper, helmet under his arm and face flushed and sweaty. He motioned the pair over, whispering to them once they got close enough to hear.

“Listen, we have to be quick, or this isn’t going to work.”

“What the hell is going on?” Stan whisper yelled, gripping the bars in front of him.

“I’m busting you guys out. I want to help.”

Ben turned to Stan with a sceptical look on his face. Stan returned it, but made a sort of motion as though he was saying this might be our only chance. Ben nodded.

“Alright, fine. Are there any sort of ships that would be easily missed on this base?” Ben asked, running a tired hand over his face. The stormtrooper thought for a moment, eyebrows knitted as his mind rattled.

“There should be a smallish cruiser that nobody would miss. I don’t think it has any weapons systems, but if we sneak away quietly enough, it shouldn’t matter.”

“That’ll do,” Ben said quickly, motioning for the man across them to unlock the door. He did so, placing his helmet back on his head.

“Put your hands behind you, I’ll pretend I’m escorting you somewhere,” he whispered. They nodded, and proceeded down the long hall, free at last.

They all walked down several long, dark metal corridors before they reached the hangar bay. Stan ducked his head, praying to something that they wouldn’t be recognized. They made it onto the cruiser with little fanfare, and Ben bolted to the controls, preparing the ship for lift off. The stormtrooper sat down and took his helmet off again. Stan was still very much confused about the whole situation; why was this stormtrooper busting them out? Supposedly just because he felt like it.

Stan turned to him, arms crossed.

“Okay, so what’s your deal? A trooper wouldn’t just rescue us for no reason. You better not have any ulterior motives,” he said with a gaze that could cut gashes. He saw the trooper swallow, fiddling with his large hands.

“I swear I don’t. I… I…” He pauses to clear his throat. “The day we captured you was my very first combat mission. I’d mostly worked in maintenance before then. But as soon as I had my gun pointed at an actual person, I couldn’t do it. I didn’t shoot a single rebel during that battle.” He pauses again, finally turning to look Stan in the eyes. “I’ve been a part of the Regime since I was a baby. I never had the chance to think about whether or not what I was doing was right. But now I know. I want to help. I want to join the Resistance.”

His eyes pleaded genuinity the entire time, begging to be believed. Begging to do just that; help. Stan sighed and lowered his arms.

“What’s your name?” he asked gently.

“Um… I was assigned with the label MK-0029, but that’s not really a name, I guess.”

“Of course it isn’t! Stan, get up here and help me pilot this thing,” Ben bellowed from the front of the cruiser. They both shambled forward as he mumbled to himself.

“MK… MK… how’s Mike? Can we call you Mike?” he said. The trooper’s face split into a wide, sunny grin, as though someone had just given him the world’s most meaningful compliment.

“Of course, Mike’s perfect.”

“Good, cause we don’t have time to come up with anything else. We need to get this bird in the air like, yesterday.” Stan rushed to help, not wanting to accidentally aggravate Ben.

Ben Hascom was a normally very mellow and cheery man, but like most things, he struggled under pressure. If something were to go wrong with one of Ben’s plans, he would bust.

The ship rumbled slightly as they lifted in the air, bracing themselves for flight. Ben very carefully piloted the ship out of the hangar, and they began shooting off into the fading light.

They all breathed a premature sigh of relief.

Almost immediately, a scanner on the dash began flashing and beeping. Both Stan and Ben cursed under their breath, and Stan moved to take control of the cruiser. The scanner had sensed ships following them, and they could not be friendly.

“What’s happening?” Mike asked, voice becoming slightly panicked.

“Tie Fighters. So much for going out quietly. You two, brace yourselves,” Stan called out, voice strained and teeth clenched. He stopped himself from white knuckling the controls, and let out a slow exhale. He felt himself reaching out, feeling the force and letting it guide him.  

He’d have to do some intensely skilled flying in order to get them out of this alive. With no defense, they’d just have to be faster and better at dodging.

Just then, a barrage of cannon fire was launched at them, and Stan skillfully rolled around them. It went on and on like this, tucking and rolling, dodging around every shot. Ben and Mike were turning slightly green from all of the maneuvers, but Stan didn’t really have much of a choice.

He turned to glance at them, just to check in, but that was all the distraction he needed to lose focus. A Tie fighter zoomed into view, placing a well aimed blaster shot straight into the underbelly of the cruiser. This was the moment Stan began to panic.

Another ship flew too close, placing the final death shot to one of the engines.

Everything slowed to a crawl, Stan watching in horror as the sides of the cruiser peeled away like a reptile skin. Fire slowly bled around them, smoke seeping into their lungs. He was acutely aware of his stomach rising in his throat as the smoking ship began its harsh descent to the desert below. Ben and Mike’s faces had both dissolved into that of mortal terror, the realization of what was to come at the forefront of all of their minds.  

They were going to die.

They were going to die if Stan didn’t do something.

He focused his hardest to find peace as the world fell away around them. He tried his hardest to hold on to Mike and Ben. As they all fell, Stan only thought one thing as he extended his hand.

This has to work…