A gentleman of good, if not immoral taste....
anonymous
April 1 2010, 01:34:45 UTC
Izaya considered himself to be a man of good taste Not necessarily of moral taste, but good taste nonetheless. So late at night, when the city's neon signs flickered and the ally cats came out to play, Izaya sat in his America imported Lay-Z Boy with some light jazz and a box of tissues to jack off. It would always begin the same way, with his eyes closed leisurely, hand snaking down his torso until it reached the zipper of his pants. And even then Izaya would merely tease himself, fingers sliding along the metal teeth and caressing his inner thigh. Next, he would rummage though his memories that would quite conviniently, supply him with images of his favorite underage toy. Kida Masaomi, with his soft damaged hair liquid fearful eyes, cock sucking lips and all. Yes, Kida was definitely his favorite, with his grim expression and set jaw. Izaya would sigh and unzip his pants, finally stroking his half-hard dick, mentally cutting apart his favorite doll. He would first shred Kida's cute little hoodie, nicking the pale, pale skin but not doing any real damage. Then he would trace the other's cute little face with his knife. and watch his doe eyes turn steely and brittle. Of course he would have to make those eyes leak salty drops down his cheeks, now that Izaya thought about it. But, anyways, after that he would snatch a fist full of that peroxide blonde and fuck Kida's face while he could only choke and splutter. Here, Izaya's hand would move faster, more insistently, and for good reason. He could practically smell the dispair coming off the boy, and his next course of action would be to spin the younger around and fuck him, messy, sticky, dirty into the nearest wall, where Kida would glare and try to hate it. But even through the midst of it all, the kid would have a spark of defiance all over his come-stained face. Not exactly romantic, persay, but just thinking about Kida's expression, it was enough to make Izaya come, and come he did, spilling messily over his hand and on to his pants. Izaya would carelessly wipe his hand with the tissue, scrub a bit at his pants, then kick them off and arrange said pants artsy-like on the television. Afterall, it was best to keep the maids on their toes. Not bad for a gentleman of taste, Izaya supposed, and strode off in to the night.
I hope anon likes it :> bad because i had to have this brain baby... LIKE NOW
Not necessarily of moral taste, but good taste nonetheless.
So late at night, when the city's neon signs flickered
and the ally cats came out to play,
Izaya sat in his America imported Lay-Z Boy
with some light jazz and a box of tissues to jack off.
It would always begin the same way,
with his eyes closed leisurely, hand snaking down his torso
until it reached the zipper of his pants.
And even then Izaya would merely tease himself,
fingers sliding along the metal teeth and caressing his inner thigh.
Next, he would rummage though his memories that would quite conviniently, supply him with images of his favorite underage toy.
Kida Masaomi, with his soft damaged hair
liquid fearful eyes, cock sucking lips and all.
Yes, Kida was definitely his favorite, with his grim expression and set jaw.
Izaya would sigh and unzip his pants, finally stroking his half-hard dick,
mentally cutting apart his favorite doll.
He would first shred Kida's cute little hoodie,
nicking the pale, pale skin but not doing any real damage.
Then he would trace the other's cute little face with his knife.
and watch his doe eyes turn steely and brittle.
Of course he would have to make those eyes leak salty drops down his cheeks,
now that Izaya thought about it.
But, anyways, after that he would snatch a fist full of that peroxide blonde and fuck Kida's face while he could only choke and splutter.
Here, Izaya's hand would move faster, more insistently, and for good reason.
He could practically smell the dispair coming off the boy,
and his next course of action would be to
spin the younger around and fuck him, messy, sticky, dirty
into the nearest wall, where Kida would glare and try to hate it.
But even through the midst of it all,
the kid would have a spark of defiance all over his come-stained face.
Not exactly romantic, persay, but just thinking about Kida's expression,
it was enough to make Izaya come, and come he did,
spilling messily over his hand and on to his pants.
Izaya would carelessly wipe his hand with the tissue,
scrub a bit at his pants, then kick them off
and arrange said pants artsy-like on the television.
Afterall, it was best to keep the maids on their toes.
Not bad for a gentleman of taste, Izaya supposed,
and strode off in to the night.
I hope anon likes it :>
bad because i had to have this brain baby... LIKE NOW
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A lot of really neat lines in here. And I also chuckled at the slight humor at the very end, an interesting sight for the maids to discover indeed.
Thanks for writing!!
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