HT100 Challenge #119 - Oz
A short something from the Oz fandom for the Hardtime100 Challenge#119 - You Took the Words Right Out of my Mouth. Schillinger/Beecher... :)
Vern can't see a fucking thing walking in that pitch black of a storage room. But then again what else is new in the world, right? What with your cocksucking father, your cheating whore of a wife (which wife exactly?) and the all around shitty mess of a life (if you can call it that) you've got going here.
He takes a few hesitant steps and collapses, all bulkiness and belly, onto the dark floor, his legs spreading wide in the process. Definitely not a way to sit. Not a man's way, that is. Beecher, on the other hand, well, that's a whole other story… that's been told countless times. A small smile as he crosses his legs, already semi hard.
There's noise just outside, probably another nigger pushing white powder into the noses of potential clients. What is the world coming to? And where in the hell is Beecher? That little slut is always up to something. Well he'd better show up or else (what?) he'll be punished like the the whore that he is, that's what. That little ingrate needs to appreciate the fact that he saved him from a life of constantly walking backwards, hands protecting dick and ass, instead of crying like a little bitch into his pillow every night. Then again, he is justifying his role in this, erm, (relationship?) arrangement, doesn't he now? Still, too much Goddamn work he'd turned out to be. More than Vern'd bargained for, that's for damn sure.
Another noise, this time a more familiar one, feet dragging slowly on the hard floor, stopping from time to time, probably contemplating turning back, and then quiet. Vern looks up with those blue eyes of his, waiting for them to adjust to the sight (come out, come out, wherever you are), and what a sight it is. Toby in all his glory, naked except for a sleeveless dress and a tad of lipstick. He stands there, waiting, no sound but their beating hearts (too corny?) and the zipper coming down.
Dress coming off, lipstick smeared, legs spread.
Game. Set. And Match (made in hell).
--End--
Vern can't see a fucking thing walking in that pitch black of a storage room. But then again what else is new in the world, right? What with your cocksucking father, your cheating whore of a wife (which wife exactly?) and the all around shitty mess of a life (if you can call it that) you've got going here.
He takes a few hesitant steps and collapses, all bulkiness and belly, onto the dark floor, his legs spreading wide in the process. Definitely not a way to sit. Not a man's way, that is. Beecher, on the other hand, well, that's a whole other story… that's been told countless times. A small smile as he crosses his legs, already semi hard.
There's noise just outside, probably another nigger pushing white powder into the noses of potential clients. What is the world coming to? And where in the hell is Beecher? That little slut is always up to something. Well he'd better show up or else (what?) he'll be punished like the the whore that he is, that's what. That little ingrate needs to appreciate the fact that he saved him from a life of constantly walking backwards, hands protecting dick and ass, instead of crying like a little bitch into his pillow every night. Then again, he is justifying his role in this, erm, (relationship?) arrangement, doesn't he now? Still, too much Goddamn work he'd turned out to be. More than Vern'd bargained for, that's for damn sure.
Another noise, this time a more familiar one, feet dragging slowly on the hard floor, stopping from time to time, probably contemplating turning back, and then quiet. Vern looks up with those blue eyes of his, waiting for them to adjust to the sight (come out, come out, wherever you are), and what a sight it is. Toby in all his glory, naked except for a sleeveless dress and a tad of lipstick. He stands there, waiting, no sound but their beating hearts (too corny?) and the zipper coming down.
Dress coming off, lipstick smeared, legs spread.
Game. Set. And Match (made in hell).
--End--