Our Love's Confusing But It Never Gets Dull - R - Luigi/Amber, Amber/OC
Well, this is NOT what I expected to finish tonight. Sorry, zyringe.
Title: Our Love's Confusing But It Never Gets Dull
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Luigi/Amber, Amber/OC
Rating: R
Word Count: 624
Summary: "I'm an asshole to be standing in the hallway jerking off listening to my sister have sex, but nobody's fucking home to catch me, so why not?"
Warnings: Language (it's Luigi), sex
The cry freezes me outside my sister's door, half a dozen violent scenarios shoving through my brain in a nauseating burst of adrenaline. The door is locked, and I pull a switchblade out of my pocket, ready to force it open, when the cry comes again, higher, followed by a groan, and I'm able to identify what I'm actually hearing.
I slump against the wall, dizzy as the adrenaline drains off. "Jesus fuck, Amber," I mutter. "Do you have to be such a goddamned slut?"
I'm wondering which of her new boyfriends is behind the locked door making her make those noises. Sweet and shrill, she sounds more like a porn star than a woman who's actually having sex, but I'll be damned if it isn't fucking sexy anyway. She intends it to be, I'm sure, the manipulative little bitch.
She's been nearly unbearable as of late, and I've wanted to strangle her more than fuck her every time she's opened her mouth, but listening to her like this reminds me of better days, stolen moments behind that locked door, and the noises she makes for me don't sound like a fucking porn star. She screams my name when I fuck her - or bites her lip until I lick the blood off her chin, trying not to scream. There's nothing poised or polished about the girl when it's my cock she's riding; it's all genuine reaction. This is phony shit - but it's still hot enough to make me hard, and it's still her voice doing something besides whining or bitching, and I'm an asshole to be standing in the hallway jerking off listening to my sister have sex, but nobody's fucking home to catch me, so why not?
Her hands seem so small when they're wrapped around my dick, and I dunno if it's because I'm hung like a fucking horse or she's just got little bitty hands, but it's hot either way, and I've gotten so I look at a girl's hands when I'm checking her out, making sure they're small and delicate and well-manicured, not that Amber is my standard for hotness, except that she totally fucking is. I've banged a lot of different bitches, but my favorites are brunettes with big eyes and little hands, and a mouth that looks like it should be wrapped around a lollipop. Fucking Lolita mouth, leaving strawberry lip gloss on my prick, like she should still smell like baby powder and apple candy instead of perfume and surgery.
Maybe it's the cost of growing up; she's a long way from being my baby sister. I was always her favorite, for some fucked-up reason. She used to demand that I tuck her in every night, read her retarded stories about princesses and fucking unicorns and shit, and if I wasn't home at bedtime, she'd just lie awake until I came back. One time I came in at five in the fucking morning, and I'd just hung up my jacket and loosened my ascot and there was little Carmela in her pink nightgown, lugging some fucking stuffed animal, wanting to know if she could sleep with me. Just sleep, for fuck's sake; I'm not into little kids, and my sister had a nice set of tits before I ever looked her way as anything but a cute little brat. Brat had me wrapped around her goddamned finger from day one, me and Pop both.
She's crying out again, a little less polished, a little closer to genuine, and all I can really think about is those noises in my ear, muffled into my shoulder, her sharp nails raking down my back, and fuck, now I'm going to have to have these pants cleaned.
Fucking bitch.
Title: Our Love's Confusing But It Never Gets Dull
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Luigi/Amber, Amber/OC
Rating: R
Word Count: 624
Summary: "I'm an asshole to be standing in the hallway jerking off listening to my sister have sex, but nobody's fucking home to catch me, so why not?"
Warnings: Language (it's Luigi), sex
The cry freezes me outside my sister's door, half a dozen violent scenarios shoving through my brain in a nauseating burst of adrenaline. The door is locked, and I pull a switchblade out of my pocket, ready to force it open, when the cry comes again, higher, followed by a groan, and I'm able to identify what I'm actually hearing.
I slump against the wall, dizzy as the adrenaline drains off. "Jesus fuck, Amber," I mutter. "Do you have to be such a goddamned slut?"
I'm wondering which of her new boyfriends is behind the locked door making her make those noises. Sweet and shrill, she sounds more like a porn star than a woman who's actually having sex, but I'll be damned if it isn't fucking sexy anyway. She intends it to be, I'm sure, the manipulative little bitch.
She's been nearly unbearable as of late, and I've wanted to strangle her more than fuck her every time she's opened her mouth, but listening to her like this reminds me of better days, stolen moments behind that locked door, and the noises she makes for me don't sound like a fucking porn star. She screams my name when I fuck her - or bites her lip until I lick the blood off her chin, trying not to scream. There's nothing poised or polished about the girl when it's my cock she's riding; it's all genuine reaction. This is phony shit - but it's still hot enough to make me hard, and it's still her voice doing something besides whining or bitching, and I'm an asshole to be standing in the hallway jerking off listening to my sister have sex, but nobody's fucking home to catch me, so why not?
Her hands seem so small when they're wrapped around my dick, and I dunno if it's because I'm hung like a fucking horse or she's just got little bitty hands, but it's hot either way, and I've gotten so I look at a girl's hands when I'm checking her out, making sure they're small and delicate and well-manicured, not that Amber is my standard for hotness, except that she totally fucking is. I've banged a lot of different bitches, but my favorites are brunettes with big eyes and little hands, and a mouth that looks like it should be wrapped around a lollipop. Fucking Lolita mouth, leaving strawberry lip gloss on my prick, like she should still smell like baby powder and apple candy instead of perfume and surgery.
Maybe it's the cost of growing up; she's a long way from being my baby sister. I was always her favorite, for some fucked-up reason. She used to demand that I tuck her in every night, read her retarded stories about princesses and fucking unicorns and shit, and if I wasn't home at bedtime, she'd just lie awake until I came back. One time I came in at five in the fucking morning, and I'd just hung up my jacket and loosened my ascot and there was little Carmela in her pink nightgown, lugging some fucking stuffed animal, wanting to know if she could sleep with me. Just sleep, for fuck's sake; I'm not into little kids, and my sister had a nice set of tits before I ever looked her way as anything but a cute little brat. Brat had me wrapped around her goddamned finger from day one, me and Pop both.
She's crying out again, a little less polished, a little closer to genuine, and all I can really think about is those noises in my ear, muffled into my shoulder, her sharp nails raking down my back, and fuck, now I'm going to have to have these pants cleaned.
Fucking bitch.