"So, are you going to prove or disprove the rumors, Mr. Walsh? I just have to know."
"Heard he did too."
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"The things you hear at the gallery. Well, I call it my factory, but it wasn't as grand as Andy Warhol's."
That’s his identifier? Not pretty boy in a band…but big cock? i mean huge.
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"Is that Sebastian Walsh? I heard he had a really huge cock."
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The sudden question caught him off guard. It took him a moment to slow down and inevitably pull out when he realized what she asked. "What? Yeah, fine. I'm fine." He said in a rushed voice. "Angry? I just thought you liked it rough." He lied.
He was always angry when he had done it with her. This time it was because she came back into his life. He thought he could escape the past, but he was falling down the rabbit whole into tempting wonderland yet again. She was a walking example of how his parents didn't love him as much as they could or should. For even a moment, he wanted to flush the thoughts of his parents out of his head, but now that she was here...they all returned too quickly.Â
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After a couple days of observing around the house, Levi had come to the conclusion that there was quite a group of individuals roaming around. He hadn't talked to many of them, after all he was more of a listener than someone who would actively participate in conversation. However, sometimes conversation was inevitable. It seemed to be one of those situations where he found himself alone in the lounge area with a certain brunette girl.Â
Of course, he had been there first. But that doesn't mean he should just leave because someone else enters. He was not a fan of uncomfortable silences, so he decided to break it. "What do you think of the interior?" He asked, as he looked around. It was very classy, and mostly white. Though, there were pops of oranges and purples thanks to a certain curly-headed participant decorating the place in spooky decor.Â
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"I'm Levi Charbonneaus, of the Charbonneau hotel owners. I was disowned and cut off for less-favorable sculptures, and my name was tarnished by the media. So I need a little help making my name known as a good one again so I can get into the fashion industry as a designer. An artistic one, though. Like McQueen."
"R-Really?"
"Umm o-okay, c-can I a-ask you a f-few questions than? J-Just w-where you’re from, w-why you w-wanted to audition and s-so on"
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"It...does. Everytime someone walks by." He said, there was a bored tone in his voice as if to indicate that he was annoyed by it. "Try walking by it again."
"Well it’s something, that’s for sure." He blurbed, cocking his head to the side. "…Do you think it meows?"
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"Levi Charbonneau. You might have heard of me, I'm the artist who made the gigantic dinosaur of used condoms."
Christian Hidle. And what’s yours?
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"My sister's twenty-three and apparently not watching my cat any longer. But yes, let's heist the cat in. I like the way you think."
"Oh man. Couldn’t convince them to let you keep your cat around? How old is your sister? Maybe we can sneak him in here. I’m sure I could figure out how to turn the tables around here."
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A couple grunts passed his lips. Even if he had been used to it as if t were routine clockwork, he still found pleasure in the act. He got off his knees to plant his feet back on the ground, to where he was standing and she was at the edge of the bed.
His rough usually paint-clad hands grabbed her hips and he thrusted relentlessly into her. He had little regard for her comfort, but if she had such a problem with it, she would have spoken up.
He felt his release nearing, and realized he hadn't put on a condom. He would need to be a bit careful with pulling out when he was ready to explode. But until then, he kept pounding her with rhythmic force, looking down at her writhe body in lust.Â
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It had never lasted long. There was never foreplay. No love. No emotion. She could have been a stranger to him and he wouldn't have felt a difference. But he hadn't mind, it was all he knew.Â
His breath quickened as she stroked him into an erection, but not a sound passed his throat. Perhaps the first time they had consummated it could have. When he was an adolescent and thought it was cool he was going to defile his sister. Now, it was habit.Â
She spread her legs, and he hovered over her, chests almost touching. One of his arms propped himself up, while the other slipped underneath her neck to grasp her dark tresses as he positioned himself. In another moment, he entered her. He began thrusting, gasping occasionally with them.
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He was so used to seeing her in this state, but nonetheless, it was a treat for his eyes. Especially taking into consideration the fact that he hadn't seen it in a while. "I think it might be coming back to me now." He teased. "Maybe."
The paper thin confines of his grey tee shirt came off first. Then, off came his dark pants, pooling around his ankles and joining the other discarded fabrics. Stepping out of them, his inched towards her. He didn't remove of his boxers for the sole reason of wanting to watch his adopted sister unwrap his package. "Could you?" He simply asked, gesturing to his lower region.
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He lifted his hovered stance from her, and grabbed her wrist in a firm grip. "Alright, Brielle, we'll do it your way." He sighed, taking her out of the jacuzzi room and began to lead her to his. Upon reaching the elevator, he nearly threw Brielle in it. The wait was excruciating, to say the least. He was  more than a bit aroused, it it showed.
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"This clock isn't even mine. I don't know who brought it. But actually, I agree with you. It's atrocious as shit."
"Well didn’t that go from zero to a hundred real quick. To be fair, though, I have been called worse before. Still, I was kidding with you. Keep the clock. As long as it actually works, right?”
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"A mix of both, actually. Please distract me from this abomination. Who are you?"
        ❝ I don’t know whether that’s like, sad or hilarious. ❞
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Levi's devious grin grew when his hands made contact with her plump rear. "It's more fun when people are watching." He said in a husky tone as he connected his lips to the base of her neck: the only place shoulders-up that he'd ever kiss her. He lifted his lips just inches away from her tanned saccharine skin, to look up at her with dark eyes. The gleam in his eyes was familiarly seductive. "Don't you agree?" Besides, the only thing technically 'watching' was a camera in the corner of the room.
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"Someone who speaks art. Finally. What's your name?"
I don’t like the colour of it. It doesn’t match the rest of the interior.
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