Fair Trade, Jaz Hoyt/Fiona, NC17
Title: Fair Trade
Pairing: Jaz Hoyt/Fiona
Rating: NC17
Synopsis: Hoyt really missed pussy. And the chicks, well, they loved him. Him and his fat, nine inch cock.
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Word Count: 596
Author's Notes: This is an expanded version of the drabble In the End They Always Beg For It, which I wrote in 2009. I always wanted there to be more of it. Now there is.
First posted on June 8, 2010 for Oz Porn Tuesday. Now Part One of the Fair Trade series! I just can't stop writing these two together.
Fair Trade
Hoyt really missed pussy. And the chicks, well, they loved him. Him and his fat, nine inch cock. They were usually lined up four deep begging him to fuck them. That’s why it was so tough to finally decide to go to one of the fags for some relief that didn’t come from his own hand. He’d never paid for it in his life, and he sure as hell didn’t want to start now, but shit, sometimes your own hand just wasn’t enough.
Didn’t mean he was a fag or nothing. But it’s not like there was a lot of choice in here, right? And besides, he wasn’t gonna fuck ‘em. He just wanted a blow job, and he didn’t give a fuck whose mouth he came in, as long as it was warm and wet. He listened to ‘em talk one day, and laughed at the way that skinny one Kiki and Fiona called each other girl and shit, but in the end, it was easier to think of ‘em as chicks - made him feel less uncomfortable with the idea of them touching him.
So he followed Fiona under the stairs one day and handed her his money and pulled out his cock. She raised one carefully made up eyebrow and smiled hungrily at him right before she handed him back his money. But before he could ask her what the fuck was going on, she fell to her knees, wrapped her hand around his cock and said:
“Oh, honey. This one is on me.”
She sucked his cock like the pro she was, and he came so hard he thought he’d gone cross eyed. Goddamn but she was good. He’d staggered away afterwards, his knees weak and his legs shaky, and collapsed on his bunk for a long nap before supper. He felt better than he had since he’d landed in this hell hole.
It was a week before he went back. She smiled real big at him and led him away, and sucked his brains right out the end of his dick. She wouldn’t take his money that time either, and that made him feel good, ‘cause that meant he still had it.
And when he got his legs back under him and managed to walk away, Fiona called out to him, “See ya next time, Jaz.” He grinned to himself. Oh yeah, he was the man.
It got to be a regular thing with them, every two or three days or so. He liked the way her eyes lit up when he looked her way, the way she smiled that sly little grin at him that said I know what you want, and I’m just the one to give it to you. She had a tongue that just wouldn’t quit, and she could suck a watermelon through a straw, she was so good. If she’d had a pussy, she’d have been perfect.
One day when he went looking for her, she was talking to some asshole, and he figured he’d come back some other time, ‘cause she was busy. But she brushed that other guy off the second she saw him, and he wasn’t sure why he did it, but he pulled out a chocolate bar he’d won earlier in a poker game, and handed it to her.
“Got this for you,” he lied, shrugging his shoulders, like it wasn’t any big deal or anything. But Fiona beamed at him and that day he learned a lesson about gifts - they were good for a rim job if you played your cards right.
Read the sequel here: Who's the Man?
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