Don't know what you got 'til it's gone
So that McFassy hookerfic I was talking about? Oh, that shit is happening. But a little differently than I originally thought. As it happens, invaderwitch is also writing a McFassy hooker fic, and after some discussion we've lit upon a way to make it stick with one of my initial ideas. I'm 945 words in, in two days, which is almost faster than I've written anything ever. I've got it plotted out from beginning to end, including the four or five significant scenes in the middle. So I shouldn't have much of an excuse to dither or not finish this one.
A bit of preview:
Michael digs around in his overcoat to find his wallet, pulling out a short stack of hundreds and showing them to the boy. He folds them up and reaches across to shove them in a pocket of the sad little jacket the boy is wearing.
He opens his mouth to speak but Michael cuts him off. He has no interest in negotiations.
“Shut up. Take off your shirt. I want to see your chest.” The boy looks amused again but he follows Michael’s orders, removing his shirt slowly without saying anything. Two shirts fall to the carpeted foot well, a t-shirt beneath the Henley so thin Michael hadn’t even noticed it. The boy relaxes against the seat with his hands at his sides, enduring Michael’s hungry looks and apparently waiting for the next command.
He’s not as skinny as Michael first thought. He’s not carrying much extra weight, but his chest and abs are slender and lightly muscled, rather than the barely padded skeleton Michael had expected. He has little hair on his chest, and light brown nipples that Michael looks forward to biting until they turn pink, then red. A light line of hair leads down to those sinfully tight denims, and Michael has a mind to be rid of them altogether.
Too fast. He wants to enjoy this. Best to take his mind off the jeans, then.
“Kneel.”
The boy slithers to the floor of the car, looking as comfortable there on his knees as he had splayed across the rich leather of the seat. Michael reaches to smear his thumb across the distracting red of his mouth, and is nearly startled to see the leather of his glove instead of the pale of his skin. But the boy hitches in a breath and his eyes are very focused, and any thoughts Michael had about removing the gloves are abandoned.
He slips his thumb inside those lips, barely feeling the boy’s tongue through the leather, but his groin tightens at the sight. The sensation of the boy’s mouth closing around his thumb and sucking is much stronger, and Michael can’t contain a quiet laugh. This one is good.
Yeah. I'm excited. So damn excited.
A bit of preview:
Michael digs around in his overcoat to find his wallet, pulling out a short stack of hundreds and showing them to the boy. He folds them up and reaches across to shove them in a pocket of the sad little jacket the boy is wearing.
He opens his mouth to speak but Michael cuts him off. He has no interest in negotiations.
“Shut up. Take off your shirt. I want to see your chest.” The boy looks amused again but he follows Michael’s orders, removing his shirt slowly without saying anything. Two shirts fall to the carpeted foot well, a t-shirt beneath the Henley so thin Michael hadn’t even noticed it. The boy relaxes against the seat with his hands at his sides, enduring Michael’s hungry looks and apparently waiting for the next command.
He’s not as skinny as Michael first thought. He’s not carrying much extra weight, but his chest and abs are slender and lightly muscled, rather than the barely padded skeleton Michael had expected. He has little hair on his chest, and light brown nipples that Michael looks forward to biting until they turn pink, then red. A light line of hair leads down to those sinfully tight denims, and Michael has a mind to be rid of them altogether.
Too fast. He wants to enjoy this. Best to take his mind off the jeans, then.
“Kneel.”
The boy slithers to the floor of the car, looking as comfortable there on his knees as he had splayed across the rich leather of the seat. Michael reaches to smear his thumb across the distracting red of his mouth, and is nearly startled to see the leather of his glove instead of the pale of his skin. But the boy hitches in a breath and his eyes are very focused, and any thoughts Michael had about removing the gloves are abandoned.
He slips his thumb inside those lips, barely feeling the boy’s tongue through the leather, but his groin tightens at the sight. The sensation of the boy’s mouth closing around his thumb and sucking is much stronger, and Michael can’t contain a quiet laugh. This one is good.
Yeah. I'm excited. So damn excited.