(no subject)
Fic: Mister, Mister
Author: Ylith
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Dresden Dolls songfic - Older Alan Rickman falls for the boy next door Orlando, but some things should remain “look but don’t touch.”
Disclaimer: Own nothing and no one used here
warning: This story is kinda fucked up. It's a bit disturbing too, but know that I don't find this sort of relationship appealing. that's all for me now.
Betaed by lovely causette
and Causette was divine to upload the song: http://www.sendspace.com/file/2hubhc
so listen to it while reading if you like. *wink*
I could see him from where I stood by the window. Pretty boy, oh so very lovely with his innocent eyes and inky black curls. He was all tanned skin and wet clothes as his sister playfully squirted him with the hose in the front yard, chasing down her younger brother who only giggled with that bubbly laughter.
So beautiful, so precious.
I could feel my heart quicken as he turned to me, laughing that same laugh as the hose was aimed right at the seat of his shorts. One would expect a young boy to have more hair, but his underarms and legs were only covered by the sparsest of down. It seemed fitting that sweet Orlando, little Orli, should be that way.
The water pushed the already high end of his cutoffs further up his thigh, baring the skin. My breath caught as my angel’s dark nipples pressed against his wet shirt, the neckline tugged down by the weight of it.
My hand lowered to my hardness as I often had when watching him. Such a beautiful boy.
He visited me sometimes, and when he did I almost forgot to respond when he spoke to me. He teased me in the summer, the innocent sweet thing leaving his slim chest bare to my wandering eyes, my mouth watering at the sight on his flat belly. He was usually barefoot, his dirty little feet would toe the ground as he spoke to me. He would lean those long arms against my back picnic table and watch me while I read on my lawn chair, his head tilted to the side as he asked me what it was. I loved him like that. Innocent beauty directed towards me, interested in me.
I sat in my lawn chair, smiling to myself as I listened to him complain to his mother that he didn’t want to mow the lawn, that he wanted to go visit his friend down the street. My angel so detested yard work, and was easily distracted when he actually got down to it.
I pretended not to notice when his head peeked over the tall top of his fence, but of course I did notice. I always noticed. When I looked up, my angel was leaning against his fence, his favorite red t-shirt on with his cutoff jean shorts that I think might have actually belonged to his sister. Silly Boy.
“Hi Mr. Rickman,” he said sweetly, his long fingers playing with the wood of the fence.
I lay the paper I had been reading in my lap, giving my sweet a frank look that I knew he would see was playful underneath. “Hello Orlando. Shouldn’t you be helping your mother?”
He smiled brilliantly, making my breath catch again. He could always take my breath away with the smallest of glances. His lower lip was pulled between white teeth, and his dark eyes looked up at me through his thick lashes. “I suppose,” he said. “But I’m just taking a break quick.”
I nod in understanding, my eyes caught as his foot slides up his ankle to rub against the inside of his calf. He opened his mouth to speak again, but his sister called for him. He told me he had to go and left with another smile.
I didn’t see him for two weeks afterwards. His parents had taken Orlando and his sister to visit some family in Manchester, and his mother had asked me to keep an eye on her house. Those two weeks were empty and dull, the sunshine even seeming cloudy.
I had been making some tea when I heard a knock at my door. My eyes squinted in confusion as I thought of who it could be, but then they softened and I smiled in content. It was him, my angel, returned to me. I knew it was him, even without seeing him on the other side of the door. I opened it to find him standing in his shorts and oversized tank top, holding a bunt cake. His lush lips spread in a smile as he offered it up me, his glossy curls messy atop his head.
“Mum said to give this to you for watching the house,” he explained, his voice the husky whisper that sounded far too sensual for his age.
I opened the door for him to enter, and he did, wiping his bare feet on the entry rug as he did so. I smiled as I watched him, not minding that he still left dirt on my good rug as he walked through the sitting room.
“Your house is very nice,” he said, with manners his mother must have installed when he was a child.
“Thank you,” I replied, watching his sweet little bum move beneath his shorts. My Orlando had a small ass, a little on the flat side but perfect to my eyes. “Go ahead and put the cake in the kitchen my boy.”
He did as he was told, turning and resting on the counter when he was done, his bare feet crossing before him and his arms folding against his chest. I put my hands in my slacks pockets, my stance casual. “How was Manchester?” I asked, disinterest only mildly obvious in my voice.
The gorgeous boy shrugged, his ringlets bouncing. “It was kinda dull. Would have rather just stayed here actually.”
I pout my lips in understanding. “Poor little thing,” I say in a way that might have offended other teens his age, but just made him giggle.
He bit his lower lip in that way of his, looking up at me with soft brows. “Did you miss me?” he asked.
I looked at him, almost lost for words at the beauty of him before me, here, standing right in my house. I nodded my head, my jaw hanging slightly. “Yes,” I finally brought myself to say.
He stepped forward, his long legs moving with his own special awkward grace. He looked up at me with those doe eyes, his lashes so long and his lips looking so soft. So beautiful.
He chewed on his lip, his lashes batting once, twice, three times. “Missed me, missed me,” he said in his whispery voice. “Now you gotta kiss me.”
I looked down at him, my blood pounding in my very veins. My breath was ragged, as I looked down his gorgeous body, watching him as he scratched at his chest, inadvertently shifting his tank top over to bare one coral nipple. The bud hardened before my eyes and when I looked up I realized he had moved closer to me, those pink lips parting a little as he tilted his head up.
I froze, my every fantasy before me. A dangerous fantasy…Orlando was a boy he was supposed to look and not touch…but now he was here, his chin tilted up and his full lips glistening after being wet by his tongue. God help me I wanted him.
The fist kiss was as innocent as a kiss on the lips could be between a groan man with graying hair and a sweet boy ripe in his teens. A mere press of lips, but once I’d tasted him I needed more, and I took it.
He moaned against my mouth, his ass pushing back against my hand that I hadn’t realized I placed there. I pulled away, looking down at those lips I had made swollen with my own. I watched those lips spread into another shy smile, and dipped my head to claim my angel’s sweet mouth again.
It became our little game, he would come to me in my backyard, or into the house with homework he needed help with, or a gift from his mother. He would ask me his question, and every time I would say yes. I said no only once in teasing jest. His velvet voice fell from between his lips, informing me sweetly that if I missed him and kissed him, he might tell his sister, and that she would tell his mother. “Then my mother might tell my father,” he’d said, a playful smile on his lips. “And he’d not be too happy, and he’ll have his lawyer come up from the city and arrest you, mister.”
He’d then kissed me on my lips, obviously not minding the slight worry that had crept into my face. He’d just giggled and climbed into my lap, wrapping his arms about my neck. “So I wouldn’t miss me, if you get me, mister,” he finished, kissing me again.
My sweet angel did love to tease.
He came to me one evening, saying his parents had gone out as he sat next to me, his long legs resting atop mine. His feet were clean, a rarity with my sweet Orlando.
“Miss me?” he asked. When he looked so beautiful all I could do was nod, doing just as I knew he wanted.
“Now you’ve got to kiss me,” he said, laying sprawled on the couch next to me, his arms resting by his head. He watched me with innocent eyes, beckoning me to him. I leaned down, shifting so I hovered over him as I knew he’d wanted me to. My mouth claimed his lips is a soft kiss, pulling back sooner than I knew he wanted me to so I could see his adorable pout. My chest rested on his, a knee between his legs. The long graceful fingers of one of his hands came up to play with my sweater, and his lashes fluttered as he looked up at me.
“If you kiss me, mister, you must think I’m pretty.”
I kissed him again to prove how pretty I thought he was. So very pretty. My hand moved to his silky curls, fingering them before slipping my hand to cup his warm cheek and elegant throat, still soft from lingering baby fat the lean youth had somehow not managed to lose yet. His lips parted, his breath warm against me. His words were masked in that whispery innocence, but something else lurked beneath. Something confident.
“If you think so, mister, you must want to fuck me.”
All the blood rushed to my groin, my breath leaving me as I looked down at my exquisite beauty. He looked so beautiful, so trusting. I felt pride as he trusted me, turned onto his belly as I told him to, put his sweet ass in the air. He cried a little when I put it in him, his long fingers clutching the cushion of the couch his face was pressed to. His body was so soft under my hands, the skin of most boys his age had begun to thicken, but not Orlando’s. I knew a few of his friends he brought back to the house shaved, but not my angel. His face was smooth, as was his chest under my fingertips.
He was tight as I thrust into him, too tight. I knew it hurt him, but he let me, not begging me to stop. He let me take him, use his body. My fingers bruised his hips, and I let him cry in my arms after. When he had calmed, I used my hand to bring him to orgasm. If I had been younger, I would have hardened again to the feel of him shuddering in my arms, of him humping his hips into my touch, the sound of his gasps as he was pleasured. When he came in my hand I felt a pride washing over me that I had done that, that he had wanted me. I felt a pride that I had claimed him first, tasted him first.
When it was all over, and he rested against my chest with my arms about him, he spoke to me again with those shy, confident words.
“If you fuck me,” he said into my chest. “It must mean you love me…and if you love me, you would never leave me.”
I brushed his hair idly with my fingers, but I stopped at those softly uttered words. I felt my chest tighten in a new emotion, realizing those words were a sort of promise Orlando was making possibly with me, but more likely with himself.
“It’s as simple as can be,” my angel finished, sighing as he nuzzled against me.
I didn’t see Orlando as often after that night. I either would feign fatigue or find reasons that we could not spend time together. I tried to distance myself from him, realizing that my sweet angel wanted something more than I was offering. Compared to me, he was a child, and I could never maintain an actual relationship him, as he seemed to expect.
At first, my angel did not seem to mind, but on the occasions we did get together, though he continued to let me fuck him in his mouth or his ass as I desired, he seemed more and more upset. He continued in our game, still asking me if I missed him, though sometimes it sounded more an accusation than his usual playful question.
One night I had used his mouth, and wiped his mouth after, kissing my angel’s sweet lips that I had so abused. We lay down together on my bed, and I brought him to completion again with my hand, watching his beautiful face the entire time. As he panted while coming down from his orgasm, he asked me his question. “Miss me?” he asked between pants. When I nodded, he beckoned me to kiss his pouting lips. “Now you gotta kiss me,” he ordered.
I did as he wished, kissing him deeply, drinking in his mouth and taste, the taste of me still mingling there.
“If you miss me,” he asked softly, his brows knit in confusion. “Why do you keep leaving?”
I sighed, unsure of how to approach the question to my darling boy. Before I could speak though, he continued, the confusion that had knit his brows delicately furrowing deeper into a warning.
“If you trick me, mister, I will make you suffer.”
My brows arched in surprise at my sweet angel’s voice, twisted with anger and wrath. His body was tense in my arms, his dark eyes fixed on mine, unflinching and unforgiving.
“They’ll get you, Mister. They’ll put you in the slammer and forget you…then you’ll miss me, wont you? Wont you miss me? Wont you miss me?!”
He began to thrash in my arms, attempting to stand. I grabbed onto him tight, holding him against my chest and kissing the top of his head in attempts to calm him, but my angel continued to thrash. I held him close, whispering to him and trapping him with my body. I repeated my affections over and over, promising him I did love him, I did. Don’t tell, you don’t need to tell because I love you.
Eventually he calmed against me, nuzzling into my chest again as sweet as he had the first time he did it. He told me he loved me and kissed my mouth. When he left he waved playfully at me, blowing me a kiss and promising to see me soon.
As much as it pained me, I knew I had to end things with beautiful Orlando.
When I tried to approach the topic with him, he first ignored me, but when I asked him to see reason, he immediately fell to his knees before me, tugging at my trousers in attempt to open them. He promised me he’d make me love him, promised we loved each other. I tried to pull him up, needing to end things.
In the end I grabbed him hard by the upper arms and yanking him to stand again. When he tried to break free of me my hand moved out of my own will, catching him hard across the cheek. I looked down in horror as my angel fell from the force of my slap to the floor, his lower lip bloody.
His sweet doe eyes were murderous as he looked up at me from the floor, his inky curls mussed atop his head. His face softened and he looked like a sweet youth again as he spoke in whispers. “If you kiss me,” he said. “Take responsibility.”
I didn’t know what to say, my body frozen as I looked down at him. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, examining his own blood before holding it up for me to see. “I’m fragile,” he whispered. “Just like any boy would be…and so misunderstood.”
The murderous glare returned to his eyes again and his brows furrowed in hatred. “SO treat me delicately,” he hissed.
When he left me that day, I was almost sure of my fate, so when I saw the flashing patrol car halt before my house, I was not surprised.
My angel stood in the front lawn in his shorts, his long legs there for me to see and his feet bare. His mother had her arms wrapped around his shoulders protectively, and his father stood rigid beside him with his hand on Orlando’s back. My beautiful boy…all long limbs and glossy curls…so very beautiful.
I was convicted of statutory rape without much deliberation, the semen still inside him and on several articles of clothing proof enough. He sat there with his mother and father, looking the used youth that the jury was sure to want to protect from a predator such as myself. His eyes were dark and soulful, but to me, he showed the briefest of smiles…victorious.
As I was led away, he slipped away from his parents and approached me. He fixed me with a cold gaze, his words venomous, “missed me….now you’ve gone and done it. Hope you’re happy, in the county penitentiary. It serves you right,” he said. “For kissing little boys.”
With a dart he leaned forward, sliding up next to me to let me feel his body against me for the most torturous of brief moments as he whispered hotly in my ear, “But I’ll visit…if you miss me.”
I didn’t think he would, and again I shouldn’t have doubted my angel, for not two months into my sentence, there he was, sitting in front of me separated by two inches of protective bulletproof glass. The guard kindly directed him to the phone, and I picked mine up as well.
At first he giggled at the sight of me in my orange jumpsuit. I didn’t return his smile and he leaned forward, tracing my face where he saw it in the glass.
“How’s the food they feed you?”
I didn’t answer, my hand tight around the phone as I looked at him. Still so innocent…still so beautiful.
“Do you miss me?” he asked, smiling when he knew my answer though I didn’t speak a word.
He leaned forward, resting on his elbows, his nose a mere centimeter from the glass.
“Will you kiss me through the window?” he asked playfully.
The corner of my mouth twitched. How I hated him and yet his smiled still set me on fire.
He traced the glass with his finger again, his small lips pouting adorably, making me want to wring his neck and kiss him at the same time.
“Will they ever let you go?” he asked, his brows softening as his finger traced over what I knew was my lips. He was still so very lovely.
“I miss my mister so.”
The End
please review
here is the song, thought I'd put the lyrics for any interested. The song is "Missed M
e"
Missed me, missed me, now you've got to kiss me.
If you kiss me, mister, I might tell my sister.
If I tell her, mister, she might tell my mother and my
mother, mister, she might tell my father and my father,
mister, he won't be too happy and he'll have his lawyer
come up from the city and arrest you, mister,
so I wouldnt miss me if you get me, mister, see?
Missed me, missed, me now you've got to kiss me.
If you kiss me, mister, you must think im pretty.
If you think so, mister, you must want to fuck me.
If you fuck me, mister, it must mean you love me.
If you love me, mister, you would never leave me
it's as simple as can be!
Missed me, missed me, now you've got to kiss me.
If you miss me, mister, why do you keep leaving
if you trick me, mister, I will make you suffer
and they'll get you, mister, put you in the slammer and forget
you, mister, then you'll miss me won't you, miss me
won't you miss me?
Missed me, missed me, now you've got to kiss me.
if you kiss me, mister, take responsibility.
I'm fragile, mister, just like any girl would be
and so misunderstood so treat me delicately.
Missed me, missed me, now you've gone and done it,
hope you're happy in the county penitentiary
it serves you right for kissing little girls, but I will visit, if you miss me.
Say you miss me.
How's the food they feed you?
Do you miss me?
Will you kiss me through the window?
Do you miss me, miss me?
Will they ever let you go?
I miss my mister so.