hauntingblue · 1 year ago
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The absolute DYKE DRIP nami has going on with the marine uniform with the cuffed shirt sleeves showing her shoulder tat and a backwards cap.... OOF
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uncaught-coolfish · 1 year ago
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Ok.
I wanna talk about the ice queendom designs.
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This one’s adorable, that’s all I gotta say. My girl is snug as a bug. Good for her!
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Tbh I don’t hate this design. Don’t like it either. Firstly, girl, you’re a carpenter’s dream. Flat as a board, those sunglasses you’ve got perched on your unneeded chest window(????????? I DONT EVEN KNOW IF THATS WHAT THAT IS) are gonna fall out of there! Also, a little excessive on the belts/straps. And good god are her tights made from iron? They’re shiny as fuck
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I don’t like this design. “But that’s the point lol it’s Weiss’s conscious or whatever the fuck I don’t remember shit that happened in this anime,” don’t care this design is ass. The cat gloves look ugly. The belt around the neck is sending me like girl you are going to get choked. The random stitches. I like the fact there’s not 20 different shades of the same color being thrown at us like canon has been doing but here the colors are just not being used well. For the love of god, put my girl in something decent please.
Oh wait. This isn’t her only design.
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Look I don’t… hate it. Adam’s original design is fucking banger already. But. HOW DO YOU FUCK UP WHAT’S NOT EVEN BROKEN THIS BADLY
The boots. Oh my god those fucking boots. Ew. Ew. Ew. Girl it looks like you stuck your feet in a griller at a KFC. How do you walk in that. How. Genuinely. How. How. How. YOU ARE GOING TO FALL.
The gloves somehow got worse. Her tail makes it look like she got electrocuted. Those are barely even fucking booty shorts at this point and the thigh highs don’t help. Combined with the fact this fit produced one of the weirdest takes I’ve seen in the fandom yet (from my understanding… might’ve been reading it wrong but you really don’t wanna know), this fit… I still like it better than the first one. Blake rocks the mask.
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Finally… some good fucking food. While the brown will never not irk me, points are restored by putting Yang in a ponytail. Hallelujah.
Though I don’t like her pants. Why is only one leg covered. Why. It looks BAD. You don’t need exposed thigh for every female design, folks.
But I also wanna look at the recent dress we got.
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Again. Ruby? You’re doing so good babygirl. Kisses.
Weiss? Ew. Ew ew ew. Easily my least favorite. Go girl give us nothing. Why do we keep trying to make her look so youthful and innocent and cute? Especially in the “She is MEGA racist here” anime? It’s gross as shit. Especially given other parts of her character, where I feel like this weird infantilization (forgive me if that’s the wrong word) is just… bleh.
I also don’t really like Blake’s. I’m so sorry they keep putting you in these things girl. Too many flowers. Too many shades. Bleh.
YANG!!!!! First off I love her hair. Thank you. It looks so big and bright and AUGHH also super cute dress. It’s giving southern wine aunt that’ll play board games with you… not a bad thing.
One of two design posts for today. Other will be out shortly.
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pynkhues · 3 years ago
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Please recommend some of your fav Rio fics!
Of course, anon! Since you asked for Rio fics, I'm going to guess you meant Rio POV fics? If not, I'm sorry, haha, because that's what I've collated, but I hope you give these a shot regardless! They're all fics I think are pretty great. ;-)
Below a cut, because this got long.
But when he does reappear at the store—she still doesn't hear him coming, she needs to work on that—she's wearing a fuckin' dress, and he's glad she hasn't seen him yet because he can't stop himself from grinning.
Maybe it ain't for him, but given the fact that he doesn't think he's seen her legs since he came back—aside from that one night at the bar when she was definitely feeling herself—it seems like this is an intentional break in the pattern. Either way, he fuckin' loves the idea that she's been dressing up all week, not sure if he's coming but wanting to be ready if he does.
Now Use Both Hands by ms_scarlet / @mego42 6k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. S3 canon divergence.
Ooooof, this fic causes me physical pain, but I love it a whole lot. Meg really captures Beth and Rio at their most acidic, their most sharp edged, while also managing to balance that with the feelings they desperately don’t want to have. It’s a bit magic, and the fact that she follows this up with another fave, Listening Through the Air Shaft is *chef’s kiss*.
- - - -
When he wakes, he's in a hospital bed, mouth dry as bone and he can taste blood, stale and metallic, on his tongue. The pain in his chest has been dulled by the drugs, but it still lingers, a persistent ache that spikes with every breath.
By all rights, he's a dead man walking.
Ten hours, they had him in surgery. From the look of his chart, he'd flatlined twice, and he can feel the consequences of that, see it in the bruises on his chest, the exhaustion lining the faces of his family. He'd woken to a little hand in his, Pop's cheeks damp with tears, and shit, it'd been close. Too close.
Bury a Friend by @ejunkiet >1k words. Mature. Beth x Rio S3 canon divergence.
Pivoting from 3.01, this fic is a wonderful, quiet character study that looks at Rio in the aftermath of the shooting before he explodes back into Beth’s life. It pulses with emotion and with the promise of catharsis, and it’s just a really special little fic. The Rio voice is terrific too.
- - - -
He finally gets what he needs one day when Elizabeth’s wearing this tight black sweater with a keyhole that shows off just enough to make Rio’s jaw rock. It’s so out of the ordinary, so unlike her ugly li’l sweaters or her surburban mama button-ups, he does a double take, head whippin’ around so fast that she catches it immediately. Then she catches where his gaze lands, where it keeps landin’ through their whole stilted, irritated conversation, and he sees her chest pinken til he can count her freckles. He sucks his lower lip into his mouth, and her lips fall open just the smallest bit, and then she looks up at him.
Eyes locked on each other, Rio takes a step closer. Elizabeth doesn’t back away.
I Will Collect You and Capture You by @foxmagpie 17k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio S3 canon divergence.
I feel like I've recced this fic 1,200 times at this point, haha, but it really is one of my favourite fics in the fandom. It has this sort of grip on you as a reader that almost embodies Beth's grip on Rio in the story, and the way it builds and builds and releases only to build and build again is really delicious, affecting writing.
- - - -
“Com’n her and her lady friends were shakin’”
“Shakin’ about the lemon on the fuckin’ granite, sure.”
They chuckled as the car rolled on, the suburbs slipping away with the sun.
“Think they’ll pay up?”
There was a groan as Rio shifted in his seat, flexing his fingers along the dash.
“Neighborhood like this? Everybody knows someone who knows someone with a trust fund.”
Mick’s lighter flickered, followed by long, rasping inhale. “And a boat.”
Smoke swirled lazily through the open window up into the purple sky.
“And a boat.” Echoed Rio.
Drivin' through the Suburbs by gangfriend / @00gangfriend00 5k words. Teen+. Mick + Rio friendship, Beth x Rio. Canon compliant.
It takes a lot to make me laugh out loud in a fic, but this one does multiple times. It's just insanely fun, and captures Rio and Mick at their most boyish in a way I find utterly charming. It's really, really delightful.
- - - -
She’s got her crimes wrapped up and categorized in folders with labels and post-its. Wrapped up in gift paper with a big blue bow on it. And she’ll probably ask Turner do you want freshly baked cookies or some shit when they go raiding her kitchen.
Rio should really get it under control. Her, get her under control.
She opens the door and slumps onto the front seat, her eyes set angrily on him. Nineteen voicemails and she’s still got things to say: he sees it in the twitch of her hand, the restless, frustrated pattern. Any minute now she’s going to settle on new words to voice her complaints like he’s here to listen. Like he’s got the time— like he cares. Like he’d better.
It’s a Work Thing by isoldewas >1k words. Mature. Beth x Rio. 2.12 canon divergent.
I'm a bit of a sucker for a good canon divergent fic, and this one pivots the car break up in 2.12 in a smutty way that just works unfairly well. It's such a great little fic that really settles well into Rio's headspace during the messiness of s2, and I love it.
- - - -
They settle in their respective places and Rio takes the opportunity to give Elizabeth the same once over that asshole did. Her ass really does look great in those pants and she could fill out any shirt. Her eyes linger over him too, tracing his skin, the bar tattoos peeking out from under his t-shirt that she’s seen a million times but she devours at every opportunity. Then her eyes meet his and she gives him that small, crooked lil’ smile.
He’s not one for religion, but every so often he takes his mom to Spanish mass. All the viejitos and pious Catholic types think he’s a banger but his ma’s still excited to show him off. He sits with her in the pew and when the priest asks for the congregation to give thanks to God, he says a prayer for the riches that have come to him, the health and brilliance of his son, the vitality of the other little ones in his life now, and Elizabeth. And when he thinks of her in those moments, he sees her in his mind’s eye with this exact look on her face.
A Bit of a Stretch by @septiembrre 5k words. Teen+. Beth x Rio. Established relationship.
Beth and Rio do a yoga class together! There’s such a lived-in feel to this fic that it feels impossible not to fall a bit in love with it – their relationship is explored in a way that feels true to who the characters are, while sanding down the edges to create something that feels sweet in the way they usually aren’t in canon. It's a great fic, but more than that, it really just works in a way that's a lot more complicated than it looks, and it’s all the more charming for it.
- - - -
He’s happy to keep kissing her like this. To savour it. Realises she’s undone the last few buttons of his shirt at some point as she shoves it down his shoulders. Doesn’t have a second to think about his ugly scars pressed to her skin. Can just feel her little hot palms snaking up his back and grippin’ him tight. Refusing to let any light between them as they kiss for what feels like hours.
He realises these are the lips he’s been tasting. Searching for in other women when his night’s got too unbearably quiet, hunting for an echo of the thing he really wanted. Comin’ up short every damn time. Sweet and soft and lethal. Unique to her.
It’s longing in a way he’s never felt. This is the taste of it.
As Good as This by @riosnecktattoo 5k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. 4.05 canon divergence.
Okay, I know I just said how much I loved canon divergence fics, but it bears repeating – I love canon divergence fics, haha. This is such a great alternate take on how the wire scene in 4.05 goes down, and it simmers with tension from the opening line. The way it escalates as Rio navigates this newest betrayal works really well too, and it results in a pretty sexy and surprisingly emotional sequence. Magic!
- - - -
“Do we have a deal?” She asks.
When he turns to look at her she’s smiling, and that’s when he realizes he’s absolutely fucked. He’d just fucked himself out of almost a quarter of a million dollars. He lets his eyes drop down her body, licks his lips and nods.
“I choose the place,” he says and turns on his side to face her. “You owe me half - with interest,” he says and slides a hand into her hair. She’s damp, the sweat slowly cooling.
“That’s not what - “ she opens her mouth to protest and he takes that opportunity to slide his mouth across hers and lick into her mouth.
Long Nights by zetuslapetus / @querenaxx 2k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. S3 canon divergence.
Rio and Beth bone while negotiating a deal! What's not to love, haha. This has such a fun checks and balances feel to it which just makes me want to peel my skin off, it's so good. It's exactly the way I like my Beth and Rio - hot and snarky and constantly trying to get a leg over the other, literally and figuratively. It's the best.
- - - -
He should go out and find someone to fuck. Maybe text one of his hookups. See if Jen’s working. He has options.
He knows what he should do.
But it turns out fucking other people is a worse hell than the one they create when they’re together.
And now that he’s yielded to this wicked ecstasy, he knows he’ll do anything to keep sitting in the fire with her.
To Sit in Hell with You by @daydreamstew 2k words. Beth x Rio. Explicit. s4 canon divergence.
Canon-divergent from 4.06 – Beth and Rio keep hooking up after the time at his grandma’s place. It’s fun and sexy while also keeping the complicated push-pull and lack of communication at the heart of them. Deeelightful.
- - - -
“Does it make it easier?” Maddie asks him once they’re spent, maybe emboldened because he has already brought her into their bed. Which may be unfair, because Lee had been in their bed from the beginning.
“What?” He seems lost in his thoughts, his arm behind his head. In a few minutes he’ll get up and get ready to get back to the factory. Like always, she’ll be looking for her keys so she won’t be late for work.
“Getting it out of your system before you see her.”
Rio glances at her. “I don’t always see you when I see her.”
It’s so rare for him to explicitly mention this woman, however tenuously, and Maddie waits for more. Rio’s gotten like this about a few women in his life but it doesn’t happen often.
Sure am Using You by aniara 2k words. Explicit. Rio x OC, Rio x Beth.
It's not for everyone, but I absolutely love fics that feature characters with other people in ways that tell you something about the characters' feelings about somebody else. In this fic, Rio's fucking one of his childhood friends, but it's all about Beth really, and the way both Rio and the OC negotiate that is really compelling writing, and feels so in character for Rio. I really love it.
- - - -
Rio dreams of her that night, again. It’s irritatingly pedestrian – Elizabeth’s kissing him deep and then, ah, suddenly his gun’s in her hand and she shoots him, with a double encore. It’s always variations on the same futile theme. When he wakes it’s not that he’s freaked, unaware of reality or his whereabouts. But he’s been soaked in anger for so long. He can’t think straight, not on her. It’s honestly terrifying. Cos stubbornly keeping his head on right is – that’s him. Maybe her entire raison d’etre is destroying every single one of his attributes though.
He ain’t sure if his subconscious is desperately screaming that he’s made the wrong move, letting her live. Or if it’s the total opposite. Could be fucking neither. It’s not – it’s not getting any easier. And that main reason for not biting the bullet, that he’d be mad as hell for being mad as hell at himself over killing her, it's not smelling any less idiotic.
Climbing up the Walls by s_t_c_s / @sothischickshe 8k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. S3 canon divergence.
Another canon divergence from 2.13 and an interpretation of how s3 could've gone, and another one I really love. There's a throughline of chaotic frustration to this fic that rings true to Rio's character for me, and the way that that reverberates through his moments not just with Beth, but alone and with other women, feels really textured and interesting and real. It's pretty great.
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uzumaki-rebellion · 6 years ago
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Black Boys Bloom Thorns First Chapter 15
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"Ain't see this side of me Fluent in the sheets Can you read in between me? I ain't a stranger to the foreplay So we can skip the wordplay
Leave the lights on Leave the, leave the lights on Leave 'em lights on…"
H.E.R. – "Lights On"
The Blue Rose was a nondescript tan industrial building set inside a cul de sac. The only signage outside were the numbers of the address lit in neon blue colors. N'Jobu sat in his car to gather himself. What did he really plan to do? Drag her outside and berate her for working in a place like that? Stand in front of a stripper pole and yell at her for shaming herself in public? The blood in his veins surged through his hands as he gripped his steering wheel. How did he not know she worked in a place like this? He had assumed it was an all-night diner.
He saw several boisterous men walking in, and when he saw the dark mahogany double doors open, he could hear the loud thump of bass music, and various catcalls and whistles. When the doors closed again, he heard nothing. He closed his eyes. She was a grown woman. This was just a job. She was just earning money to support herself—
The thought of her naked and writhing on a stage propelled him out of his car, his hands balled into agitated fists. He entered the building and found a young fair-skinned Black woman behind an elaborate register. She was wearing a baseball top that was entirely too small for her large bosomed frame and the shortest shorts that displayed all her assets. She was re-supplying paper to her credit card machine. When she glanced back up, she took a long hard look at his clothes and his face before releasing a seductive grin.
"Hello there," she said.
N'Jobu handed her a black credit card and she swiped it. A separate set of doors led to the main room, and when he walked through, the smell of desperate horny men assailed his nostrils. Flashing laser lights, deafening music, and monetary notes were thrown on three separate stages. The two stages on the side were small and flanked by a larger one with a shining silver pole that ran through the ceiling. N'Jobu posted himself up at one of the three bars in the establishment, his eyes watching the stage as three women pranced out into position and began a new set.
Big tits, big asses, and thick thighs were the preference of this space, and the multi-ethnic male audience was appreciative and generous with their cash. The women were good-looking, athletic and limber. Also, completely nude. Glancing around N'Jobu already noticed a tent city with some of the men having intimate lap dances. He already felt a tension in his neck. Bast forbid he should see his woman grinding on some undeserving cock. He needed a drink.
Ordering a scotch on the rocks, N'Jobu leaned in towards the shapely rainbow-haired bartender to pay for his drink. She took one look at N'Jobu, then his credit card, and saw dollar signs.
"You look like a man who needs his own V.I.P. space," Rainbow girl said.
"Is that right?"
She nodded her head towards a space behind him. He looked in the direction she wanted him to see.
"Up there are private sections. I can set you up with bottle service. Exclusive. Private server…very private."
He caught her drift. He didn't even bother to ask her how much, just waved at his card.
"Set me up, I'll run a tab," he said.
Her eyes traced the outline of his expensive designer shirt. She saw his watch and the tasteful white gold chain around his neck. Rainbow grabbed another woman walking behind her with a tray of empty shot glasses.
"Misty, take this customer to booth twenty and set him up."
Misty, a Black and Vietnamese beauty, scanned N'Jobu with her dark eyes and her face lit up. Rainbow handed N'Jobu his scotch and Misty took him by his hand and led him to the steps that propped him up above the rest of the patrons. A man dressed in a decent suit and worked security for the V.I.P. section bent down to hear Misty talk. The suit unlinked a blue velvet rope allowing N'Jobu to walk up to his private perch.
The set up was decent; some Moroccan style couches and two black velvet chairs that sat close to a glass railing to see the action below. N'Jobu stood looking down at the main stage, his eyes darting to and fro for any sign of Califia among the women giving lap dances in the audience. The Blue Rose was huge and a bit chaotic.
"I'll be your personal server Mr., …?"
He didn't give her his name, just walked over to her and looked down at her face.
"Just bring me a bottle of champagne. Top shelf."
"Would you like any food, we have an excellent—"
N'Jobu shook his head. His mind was speeding ahead to what he would say when he saw Califia, or even what he would do. He needed privacy.
"Just bring me the champagne, for now, Misty," he said, enunciating her name so that his accent had the desired effect. She was swooning.
"Be right back," she said, adding extra swerves to her walk going down the steps.
He went back to standing near the railing. The dancer on the stage was being switched out again, the voice of an MC introduced the next performer. N'Jobu held his breath until he saw a slender Latina with ginormous knockers shimmy her way onstage to a fast trap beat.
"Shit," N'Jobu whispered to himself.
Scanning the room, he saw female servers catering to male customers and a few scattered handfuls of women patrons. The main dancer on stage held the pole with her hands and shook her naked ass so hard he thought it would snap off and fall to the ground. Laser lights and theatrical smoke, reeking of the dry ice that created it, wafted throughout the space, and a certain server caught his eye from afar. It was the two braids in her hair. He watched the server hand out drinks, take a few orders and then move past the main stage towards a bar in the back that was out of his field of vision.
Califia.
He felt his body relax. She only presented food and drinks. She wasn't on the pole. A part of him, the lascivious part of himself was a bit disappointed. Did he really think he was going to stand there in an elevated private section and watch her gyrate while sliding up and down a pole with her legs open with an audience? Did he really want to see that?
Sitting in his car earlier he envisioned all kinds of scenarios, men running up to the stage and throwing money on her, dudebros making filthy monetary notes full of damp sweat rain down on her breasts and ass. Drunk guys trying to press their faces into her chest to be motorboated, their dirty hands rubbing their sad crotches and then rubbing some part of her.
Misty returned with a fancy bottle inside a bucket of ice, and a single champagne flute held out to him. She placed the bucket on a table and pulled open the cork that had been popped before she came up the stairs. She poured his glass to the top. He drank until the flute was half empty.
"Will you need anything else?" Misty licked her lips and ran her fingertips across her nipples. Her hustle was not subtle. She may just be a server, but she was willing to give N'Jobu whatever he desired. A lap dance or even more. Had this been weeks in the past, N'Jobu may just as well sat on one of the couches, spread his legs and let this beauty climb on him, but he had something more valuable downstairs. And he wanted her in his presence. Immediately.
He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his wallet and lifted out a fifty-dollar bill.
"There's a server downstairs with two braids and freckles near the stage. Send her up here to me, please."
Misty's face didn't fail to hide her disappointment.
"The girls downstairs have their sections that they are assigned…"
"I want her. Now."
Misty took the fifty and shuffled downstairs.
N'Jobu went to lord over the crowd and watch for his woman. She was making her rounds with a large tray of drinks that she balanced in one hand while fending off overzealous hands with the other.
The high heels she wore made her legs look longer and even sexier, and her uniform, the same as all the women servers and bartenders in the spot, was a tighter baseball top and short shorts that allowed lesser men to see nearly all of her curvy behind. He watched her bend over near the stage to listen to a man, and even from that distance, he could tell the other men watching her were salivating at the view she displayed. How many of them in that moment were fantasizing about getting up behind her, holding her waist and thrusting forward into that round piece of heaven?
He saw Misty approach her. He waited.
###
Califia was making bank tonight. Her push up bra was stuffed with fives, tens and a few twenties. She was going to have to run to the staff room soon to place her collected tips into her backpack located inside her personal locker so she could make room for more. She guestimated that she already had around two-hundred dollars, and her shift was still early. She would be working until six in the morning.
Making her way towards a few tables close to the stage, Califia saw Misty, a club favorite, come bounding up to her.
"Li Li, there's a guy up in twenty who wants you to be the server."
Califia glanced at Misty's pouting lips.
"I'm cleaning up here. Get someone else," Califia said, writing down two separate orders for two different tables.
She purposely had her hip thrust out, trying to finesse hard-up men with eye candy. The men she was taking orders from were definitely into big legs, so she wanted to make sure they could see her extra cocoa-buttered thighs. The club DJ was playing a hard banger of a classic Big Freedia bounce re-mix, so Califia added a few subtle body rolls as she took drink and food orders much to the delight of the men and two women in her section.
Misty rolled her eyes at Califia, but she seemed a little happy with the response she received.
"I'll let him know," Misty said flouncing away.
Califia looked up towards V.I.P., but the distance, bright lights, and smoky atmosphere made it impossible to see the person above them. Clearly, they had the paper to be up there, but Califia just wanted to take orders and serve drinks. V.I.P. work got a little handsy and often illicit. God bless the working girls that went that route, but she was good for the evening.
Califia made sure to give special attention to the two women patrons in her section. She checked in with them often, making sure they had plenty of water and the free salted snacks on each table.
"Let me know if you need anything," was her refrain for them. She did it not because she wanted tips from them, but to make them comfortable in the den of snakes men could turn into in a spot like that. Califia could handle herself with disrespectful clientele, but she had witnessed too many times the sharp turn a night could take with drunk touchy-feely males who could quickly forget a woman sitting in the audience wasn't a worker for the club.
"Come give me a dance, Ma," a guy called to her when she swept past with her empty tray on her way back to the bar.
Califia smiled sweetly, blew him a kiss, but kept it moving.
###
When Misty sauntered back up the stairs, she had a mischievous smile on her face.
"She doesn't want to come up here. Like I told you, all of our ladies have sections they are assigned to. And right now, Li Li is very content where she is."
N'Jobu glanced back down towards the main floor. He saw a man reach out and slap Califia's ass while she was carrying a full tray of beer bottles. He swallowed hard and turned his eyes back towards Misty.
"I can take care of you," Misty said.
N'Jobu took slow deliberate strides over to Misty. He towered over her but brought his lips to her ear.
"Go back down there and tell her this, …inyanga."
"Inyanga?" Misty asked, her face scrunched up in confusion.
"Tell her to come up here again, but if she refuses, get close to her and whisper in her ear, inyanga."
N'Jobu held up another fifty.
Misty stared at him.
"Inyanga?" she said again.
"Perfect," he said. He handed her the fifty and returned to the glass railing. His patience was waning. He didn't want to go down there and cause a scene, but if Califia didn't get her ass up there within the next ten minutes he was liable to go ballistic and bellow her name from the balcony.
###
"What?" Califia asked when Misty crowded her space again.
"That guy in twenty still wants you up there."
"Forget it," Califia said, tucking a wad of bills down into her bra.
Misty stepped closer to her, put her hands onto Califia's arms, and whispered in her ear.
"He told me if you refused to come up again, he wanted me to tell you this…inyanga."
"What? Speak louder, I can't hear you."
"He said if you refused to come to him that I was to tell you this word…inyanga."
Califia eased back from Misty and took a step forward towards the balcony. She still couldn't see the shadowy figure perched up there because of the bright lights and the smoke.
"I'll take your spot," Misty said pulling the empty serving tray from Califia's hand.
Already on autopilot, Califia's legs carried her to the rear of the club, but her eyes were focused up, and eventually, she was able to make out his form and features. She stopped below him. Standing there, eyes raised up to him, the cacophony of action around her became white noise.
Staring down at her, his hands caressing the balcony railing, N'Jobu looked like some ancient haughty Cesar watching a riotous colosseum of bawdy women and lecherous men. How long had he been up there, watching her work? She tried to temper her breathing, but his face in the red glow of the V.I.P. lights had her guessing what he was thinking and feeling. From where she stood, she could clearly see the arch in his eyebrow, the tension in his eyes, and the way his lips poked forward, he was giving her the same stare he had right before he dragged her out of his car and spanked her in the back seat of his BMW. He was giving off molten lava levels of heat. And it was directed at her. She felt her legs quake like she was sinking into quicksand. She waited there like a very bad girl deserving of punishment. The thought made her mouth water.
"N'Jobu," she whispered to herself. His name felt hot and heavy in her mouth, a solid restless thing that needed a release. The moment he saw her lips move with his name, he beckoned with one hand for her to come up.
###
He was drinking champagne when she reached him. Standing near the top of the stairs, Califia watched N'Jobu turn to look at her as he leaned against the balcony.
"Li Li," he said, a smirk dancing on his lips.
She held out her hands.
"What are you doing here?"
"Why are you so far away from me?"
She sauntered in, self-conscious of what she was wearing as his eyes swept across her work uniform.
"Why are you here?" she asked.
"You forgot to take the pie I made for you from my car. I was heading home and thought I'd drop it off. Bakari gave me the name of where you were. So here I am."
She glanced around the V.I.P. room.
"So, where's the pie?"
"Come here."
Califia hesitated then took some tentative steps until she was four feet from him.
"You want a drink? It's their best," he said handing his glass to her. She took it, the only time she ever had the opportunity to taste the best bottle her job had to offer. The champagne went down extra bubbly and extra dry. It was quite excellent. She held the glass out for more and N'Jobu walked over to a table and pulled the bottle out of the ice. He replenished the glass and watched her drink her fill. She offered the rest to him and he finished it, placing the glass on the table.
"Does it upset you that I work here in a place like this?"
"A little. If we weren't together, I probably wouldn't care, but it does irk me a bit if there are people here who touch you or look at you. It is your body, but…"
"But what?"
He shrugged.
"No, I want to hear what you have to say. It's my body, but…?"
"All I see in front of me is mine. Just mine. I don't want these cretins touching my treasure. That's all. And you look so damn hot right now, girl."
She pivoted around nice and slow for him then sashayed close to him so that her chest touched his. She played with the collar of his shirt.
"I've been working here for two years. I know how to handle myself. You don't have to worry, and you don't have to check up on me."
"I wasn't checking up, I just wanted to make sure you had your pie. I'm just surprised that this isn't a restaurant."
"Did you think I was dancing on the pole?"
N'Jobu's eyes looked away from her and he pressed his lips together tight searching for an answer.
"You thought you would see me down there on stage doing the do, huh? Admit it!"
N'Jobu tried to play it off, but she pushed her hand into his chest to make him confess the truth.
"Are you disappointed that you didn't catch me in the act?" she asked staring into his face as he tried to avoid direct eye contact. He was embarrassed. She thought he was so adorable when he was embarrassed. He couldn't even look at her when he was in that state.
"Do you want me to go down there and climb on the stage to fulfill your fantasy, sir?" she joked with him, pretending to walk towards the stairs, "I could get Misty up here because God knows she loves to give lap dances."
N'Jobu walked over to her and pulled her hand into his.
"How about you give me a lap dance, Li Li?"
Califia held his gaze, and then she heard the intro beat to a neo-soul jam, heralding the coming of Califia's favorite performer, Medusa.
"Come watch Medusa with me first," she said, pulling N'Jobu back over to the railing, pushing the velvet chairs together.
A woman with long thick honey-brown braids and dark olive skin took the stage, leaping onto the pole by her legs and spinning, her hair spiraling out of control as gravity whipped it around her turns.
Califia watched N'Jobu watch Medusa do her thing as men in the audience began tossing money and catcalling their appreciation for the level of skill Medusa brought.
The woman climbed her way to the ceiling, flipped upside down, released her hands and just allowed herself to slide down all the way to the bottom without hitting the floor with just her thighs. N'Jobu's eyes squinted hard.
"Wow," he said.
"I know," Califia answered.
Medusa pranced around the stage, her movement accentuating and punctuating the lyrics to the song she danced to.
"Not that I would want it, but you would probably be badass down there," N'Jobu said.
"Nah, that's a whole different skill set, baby," Califia said, patting his thigh.
The music switched up and Medusa elevated her game, causing Califia to jump up and clap.
"Get it, Medusa!" Califia yelled.
Medusa grabbed her own braids and swung her body around, dropping into the splits where they could all admire her abundant ass cheeks as they jiggled in time to the beat.
"I see you all still do that twerking thing," N'Jobu said.
"You think she's hot?" Califia asked.
"Yes. She's beautiful," he said looking up at Califia. He stayed seated and watched her gyrate in her shorts, her decadent thighs having the same effect on him as the patrons that sat downstairs. She raised her arms above her head and shook them with the music, and she felt his intense focus on her face without looking at him. When she did allow herself to look at him again, his eyes drifted to her neck and the cleavage she displayed that had money spilling from it.
"Califia," he said, his voice going low, constrained by what she guessed was his need to touch her.
Califia kept winding her body, her butt flexing and bouncing a bit as she moved in her heels. He tapped her arm.
"Califia," he said again.
She turned to look at him and noticed a change in his demeanor. That heat was back in his eyes.
"I want you to give me a lap dance," he said, patting his thigh.
Her head tilted.
"Well sir, we have rules," she said, running her fingers over her two braids and straightening them on her shoulders.
"I will abide by all of them," he said.
She gave him a long contemplative look then became all business.
"Give me a minute," she said and rushed downstairs.
###
Califia met Misty at the entrance bar.
"So," Misty said, looking Califia up and down, "how is that guy in twenty treating you? He's fucking hot."
Califia reached for four shots of the most expensive tequila the club had and placed them on a tray.
"That guy happens to be my boyfriend."
"No shit?"
"Yep."
"The guy with the black American Express card, Rolex, Hugo Boss fits and come-hither eyes?"
"That's my man."
Misty looked her up and down again.
"He seems a little refined for what I'd expect you to catch."
Califia knew Misty could get a little greasy when she was jealous, which was rare. It made Califia wonder how hard she tried to persuade N'Jobu to keep her as his server.
"How long have you two been together?"
"A year," Califia lied.
"Okay, girl. Still waters run deep, I guess. Wouldn't think you could pull someone like that."
Califia picked up her drinks.
"Darla knows this already, but he doesn't want anyone else coming up there. So pass the word along, would you?" Califia said, walking away with the tray and swiveling her hips. When she faced the security guard she nudged him with her elbow.
"The gentleman upstairs doesn't want to be bothered. Please make sure no one comes up unless he requests them personally. Especially Misty."
###
Califia and N'Jobu tossed back both shots of the tequila she brought up. She made him sit on one of the couches furthest away from the railing where they couldn't be seen. Above the couch were adjustable lights in various colors to set any type of mood. Califia chose a soft white light that allowed him to see, but not harsh enough to kill the mood.
Standing before him she held her hands on her hips.
"Rule number one. No touching."
"Got it," he said.
"Rule number two. No means no. Rule number three, I can stop at any time I choose, and if you make me feel uncomfortable, I will call Rusty, the security guard at the bottom of the stairs."
"Anything else?"
"Have fun."
Califia felt the tequila coursing through her as it chased the champagne she had earlier. She could feel the spreading warmth move from her throat and ease down into her chest. N'Jobu watched her face, his legs slightly parted with his hands resting on the sides of his hips.
The boom bap of the music down below was piped into their V.I.P. area with small but powerful JBL speakers above them. She didn't like the song that was playing, and once Medusa left the stage, the DJ returned to bargain basement beats.
"Is something wrong?" he asked, trying to read her facial expression.
"This song sucks…," she said, wishing she could have an on/off switch to shut down the music.
"I don't care about the music," he said.
She was ready to answer him when a slower seductive instrumental piped in.
"That'll work," she said as the tequila-infused her with liquid courage.
She bent down and kissed him softly on his lips then eased back.
Lord, please don't let this come off corny, she thought as she slid her hands down her waist and onto her knees. She spread her legs and dropped down to the floor. She kept her eyes on him until she spun around in her heels so that she was facing opposite him and eased herself back up so that her ass was near his face. She dropped down onto his lap and heard a slight groan escape him as his hands reached out to hold her waist. She already knew he wanted to lift her up and down.
"I said no touching."
She slapped his hands away as she did slow gyrations on his thighs then lowered her hands to grab her ankles, her legs in an upside-down V formation. She flexed the muscles in her ass causing small spasms of movement in each cheek.
N'Jobu said something in his own language as her fingers did a slow glide back up her legs. She angled her torso so that she could look back at him. She dropped back onto his thighs and inched her way further back on his lap until she could feel herself sitting on his dick.
She rested her hands on his knees, leaned forward and bounced, feeling his semi-erection grow under her. He thrust his hips a bit and she gripped his knees tighter to keep herself steady. The silky thin material of her short shorts was really a poor barrier, and she could feel him stiffening more beneath her wiggling. The tiny black G-string she wore tugged on her labia, the friction causing a pleasurable tingling sensation. She found herself exhaling through her mouth. She wanted to see his face.
Turning her body around, she rolled her hips on his lap, feeling her clit rub against his bulge. She exhaled harder, finding herself losing a bit of focus on the task at hand as she made small circles with her hips. She reached up and pushed her breasts together, her tight shirt forcing her tits to spill from her push up bra. Her nipples perked up, and she tweaked them through the shirt and bra with her fingers. N'Jobu's eyes darted between her face, chest, and waist. Her shorts were sticking to the shape of her vulva and she saw his eyes narrow as he noticed the evidence of her arousal.
"Califia," he whispered, still thrusting his constricted erection between her thighs, "let me see your pussy."
Her eyes closed involuntarily at the sound of his request. She was supposed to be running this lap dance. Not him. When she re-opened her eyes, she saw him staring at her mound, his lips parted, and his face constricted in a way that could be read as both pleasure and pain. He stopped thrusting into her, eyes still on her lower half.
"Ahhh, please…let me see your pussy."
She took her right hand and patted her vulva.
"You want to see it, baby?"
"Yesssss, please," he murmured.
She took her time reaching down between them to slide the material of her shorts to the side with one hand. Her other hand plucked at the G-string and they both saw a shiny thread of her arousal sticking to the panties. She tugged on it so that the thin black material spread open the right side of her inner lips and he could see her opening.
"Califia, shit," he groaned, his index and middle finger reaching over and scissoring her clit. He stared at the small trimmed thatch of her reddish pubic hairs on her mound and the freshly waxed smoothness of her vulva. She felt the flow of blood causing her to engorge, making her pussy a succulent oasis for the perfect dick.
"There are rules. No touching," she said brushing away his fingers, but patting her clit herself. N'Jobu's lips were pressed together in a tight line, his eyes steady on her hand slapping her own skin.
"Look at your fat pussy, baby," he said, his fingers on both hands twitching, trying to hold back from fingering her. His eyes raised to gaze at her again. His face looked twisted in anguish, and it turned her on. She unfastened his pants and he helped her slide his slacks and silk boxers down. She slid her fingers around his fat cock and placed it between her legs so that her slickened labia spread right below the head. She shifted her weight and began rubbing her pussy on his dick. They both could hear the sound of it slipping and sliding on him. N'Jobu's hands made another pitiful attempt to touch her, this time groping for her ass, but she slapped them away again and reached for his white gold neck chain necklace, twisting it in her hand so that she was actually choking him with it.
"I said no touching! Can't you follow the rules, sir?"
His eyes widened a bit with surprise, but she felt his cock pulse underneath her. She held onto the twisted chain and kept grinding on him, a slow tickling building up in her clit. She looked down at her labia pressed onto him. A thin drizzle of pre-cum spilled from his tip and she watched it roll down and coat her lower lips. She gasped and released his chain.
"Bay-bee…," she moaned out to him.
"Go ahead, girl. Give me that pussy."
"Uh, huh, uh, huh,…hmmmm…," was all she got out.
"That's your dick…that's your dick…that's all yours," he uttered, encouraging her to keep grinding on him.
"Huh, Jobu…," she said. She felt her voice straining, the wet evidence of her desire flowing out, making his dick shiny.
"Open up your pussy, let me see it," he said.
Califia reached down, lifted up from his dick and spread open her labia, her slippery fingers barely able to keep her folds spread apart. She saw his mouth drop open again while a deeply felt groan tumbled from his lips.
"You're coming home with me tonight," he said, still staring at her pussy.
"Bay-bee…," she whimpered.
"Look at me…I said look at me, Califia."
She kept her pussy spread open for him but allowed her eyes to rest on his face. The intensity she saw there brought her anxious desire for him to the surface. She closed her eyes seeking a little shelter from his gorgeous face, just enough of a break to let her gather her wits and keep from being overwhelmed by his forceful energy.
"Tell me you want me inside you tonight," he said.
She needed to rub herself against him, needed that fat dick to be buried in her balls deep. She couldn't take any more waiting.
"I want you inside me," she blurted out, "I need to be in your bed. I need you to be in my pussy, Jobu."
She spread her thighs so that her pussy splayed open wider.
"Shit," he said, his eyes wrenched back to her opening, "I'm going to be in there deep, baby."
Califia yelped and dropped back on him with her clit on his dick, rocking him with a frantic energy.
"You want me in there deep?" he asked.
"Yes!" she snapped, her body lurched forward as she held onto his shoulders. He enclosed his fingers around her waist to balance her.
"You'll take all this dick?"
"Yes, baby."
"All of it?"
"Bay-bee—"
"All this dick. Right?!"
"Yes—"
"Say it then! All of it!"
"I'll take all of it! All your dick…all your dick…all of it…Oh…God….Jobu…Jobu…Jobu…"
Califia's head fell forward onto his shoulder and she was cumming,…hard…all over his dick. She trembled in his lap as the spasms in her core rocked her into a state of bliss, her skin thrumming with the feverish release of her orgasm. She felt her toes bunch up as her thighs squeezed his hips.
She felt N'Jobu pull her close to him and she felt the warm breath of his mouth blowing in her ear. He was talking to her in his language again, the soft dulcet tones bringing her back to her senses. She felt his fingers pulling her G-string and shorts back into place despite the stickiness she felt still dripping out of her.
"Go get your things. We're leaving," he said.
"But I have to finish my shift—"
"Fuck that shift," he said, pulling her off of him and fixing his own clothes, "Go. Hurry up. I'll meet you down by the bar near the exit. I need to close out my tab."
She stared at him. They were finally going to do this.
"Call your grandmother and tell her you're not coming home," he said.
Califia saw the heat growing in his eyes again. She was still giddy from her orgasm.
"Don't even bother changing, just get your stuff," he said.
She ran down the stairs. All she could think about was his bed and him on top of her. At last.
###
N'Jobu paid for his time and drinks in V.I.P. Rainbow girl and Misty watched him as he waited for Califia. Misty, in particular, was giving him stares that made him feel like she was upset about something. Their manager, Darla, was not happy when N'Jobu announced in a brisk tone that they needed to find someone else to replace Califia for good.
When Califia walked back from getting her backpack and helmet, N'Jobu interlaced his fingers with hers and guided her out of the club.
"My bike is in the employee parking—"
"We'll come back for it tomorrow," he said shoving open the front double doors of the club.
Outside, the staccato click-clack of her heels echoed in his ears. When they reached his car, he opened the passenger side for her and couldn't keep his eyes off her backside when she climbed in.
He wanted to spank her.
The compulsion rose up in him so fast he had to catch his breath. But he had to get her home first, get her naked, make her understand that he wasn't playing about getting deep inside of her. His dick was a solid mass of neediness. She had him wound up tight, and now that he saw her pussy, and what awaited his cock, he had to fight an inner battle not to fuck her in the backseat right there in the parking lot. He prayed that the fresh box of ultra-thin condoms he had waiting at home could withstand the intense thrusts he had planned for her. He had to close his eyes for a moment when he opened his driver's side door. He hadn't felt this type of anticipation in a long ass time. It was making him feel punch drunk.
Watching her face when she orgasmed gave him such a rush. Even though he loved to hear his women talk back to him when he shared pleasure with them, Califia made his dick even harder with just the sounds and facial expressions she made. Those soft but desperate pants…the way her voice went "Oh!" when his dick rubbed her delicate folds just right, spreading his wetness all over her juicy clit. When he was on the edge, his lips parting as he watched her chase her orgasm, she seemed to pick up on his heightened pleasure, creating a feedback loop that spun him into his tortuous goal of not cumming until they were between his sheets. His balls had become so heavy that he thought he was going to lose it when thankfully, she let go first. He felt that Califia-induced tunnel vision closing in on him.
He started up the car and led them out of the cul-de-sac and away from the club. The first red light he came to, he looked over at her and knew he was in trouble. She had taken off her push up bra, and he could see her hard nipples poking through her top. And those fucking thighs of hers. He reached over and tugged on her shorts.
"Pull those down. To your ankles," he said.
Her eyes drifted across his face. The hard-line look in his eyes let her know he wanted it done right away. She pulled them down, letting her shorts and G-string sit atop her heels. He reached over with his right hand giving her mound a gentle tap.
"Open your legs," he said.
"Hmphh,…baby," she sighed, spreading her thighs a little bit. He tapped her there again a little harder with two fingers. She let her head fall back onto the headrest, but she kept her fervent eyes on him while twisting her lips.
"Show me your pussy again," he demanded, "use both of your hands."
Califia gently peeled back her inner lips and opened her center up to him. He checked the traffic light again. It was still red. He wet his ring and index finger with his mouth, then reached over and teased her opening. When her strained whimpering got the best of him, he inserted his fingers inside of her, just to the first knuckle.
"Jobu," she gasped. He pressed in more, all the way in, curling his fingers a bit. He started to tap along her wall.
The light turned green and he kept his fingers inside of her, giving slow rhythmic thrusts as he drove.
"I'm getting this pussy ready," he said, "don't move."
Driving closer to his apartment, he made his digits work a little faster. She dropped her fingers from her opening when they reached another red light.
"No, …put them back. Keep your pussy open for me, just like that…yes…wider…you're so wet for me…open it wider…yesssss… look at that pretty pussy…"
Her whimpering devolved into raw tremulous pants. Her eyes were still on him but at half-mast. He pulled his fingers out and yanked her top up so he could see her breasts.
"Fuck…," he said, squeezing her left breast and fussing with her nipple, "keep that pussy open."
She did. He played with her tits, then stuck three fingers inside of her. She kept her eyes on him.
"I like how you hold that pussy open for me," he said stroking her insides. She squirmed in the seat.
They came to another red light and he pulled his fingers out.
"Play with your tits for me."
Califia cradled and kneaded her breasts with such sensual touches that he found himself mumbling curse words in Wakandan. He told her how nice and ripe her breasts were, how he couldn't wait to suck on them after he fucked the shit out of her. She had no idea what he was saying, but he sensed the tone in which he spoke to her was getting his message across. Crude thoughts consumed his mind and he couldn't help it. He felt intoxicated watching her while also watching for the light to change.
Her thumbs and index fingers massaged her nipples, plucking them at intervals that made him forget to check the light. His escalating desire was making him impatient. He slipped his fingers back inside of her, hooking them so that he could tease her clit with the rest of his hand. He drove on while still giving her thrusts with his fingers. His dick jumping in his pants was almost unbearable.
"Jobu," she whined, and he couldn't look at her, his eyes fixed on the road, trying to make it safely to his apartment without crashing because of her distracting wet pussy. He spoke to her again in Wakandan, his tongue hitting the roof of his mouth brushing near his incisors as his words now incorporated the traditional clicks of his language. It was when he was telling her how she was making him feel and his tongue made a loud "clop" sound that she lost it.
He felt a tightening on his fingers and heard a long drawn out moan stagger from her mouth in waves.
"Yes, baby," he shouted at her as he felt her thighs slam shut around his fingers, "cum on my hand!"
He pulled up to the security gate of his apartment and put his car in park awkwardly with his left hand. Turning his head, he stared down at his fingers between her legs and then dragged his eyes up to her face. Her eyes were squeezed shut and she had her hands cupping her breasts like a divine offering. He wanted to reach into his pants and pull out his erection so he could decorate her tits with his semen, but his bed was mere seconds away in his mind.
He gently removed his fingers from inside of her, and her eyes parted open slightly, barely registering his face. He stuck his fingers in his mouth to taste her.
"Fuck," he said, licking his fingers with deliberate care as she watched him with sated eyes.
He found his parking spot and watched her slowly pull up her G-string and shorts. Hopping out of the driver's side, he wasted no time grabbing her backpack from the backseat and helping her out on wobbly legs. He clasped her hand and walked her up the stairs and into his home.
###
She felt like she was floating.
The minute they were inside the apartment, N'Jobu tossed her backpack on the couch and began kissing her without turning any lights on. She matched his intensity as he backed her towards his bedroom. When he had her in front of his open bedroom door he released her lips but kept his face near hers. She could feel heat radiating from his body. Draping her hands around his neck, she waited for him to say something.
"Is everything okay?" she finally asked when a minute seemed to pass and he didn't move or say anything. Was he changing his mind? His enthusiasm seemed to taper off.
"N'Jobu?"
She touched his face, unable to see him well in the dark hallway. He reached behind her and turned on his bedroom lights. His face illuminated, she realized she was mistaken about his excitement tapering off. She could see a yearning in his eyes, and his lips made her ache to kiss him again.
"I want to take my time with you," he finally said, touching one of her braids.
"Okay," she answered, giving him a shy smile.
He stared at her a bit longer, like he was trying to figure out the words he wanted to say. In the car, his voice rumbled foreign words that coaxed her into a state of uninhibited physical abandon. Sitting in a car with her legs spread open, the old torments of worrying that she would take forever to relax and climax was gone. She tumbled so fast into her orgasm that she almost forgot where she was when he helped her out of his car.
Trusting her instincts, Califia stepped into his bedroom backward, slowly unbuttoning her top. The track lights in his bedroom were ultra-bright. N'Jobu reached over and tried to lower the intensity of the lighting.
"Keep them all the way up. I want to see all of you," she said, kicking off her heels and sliding her shorts and panties off.
She stepped away from her clothes and kept easing back until her calves hit the bed. It was a lot lower than she expected. Glancing around she saw that all his furniture was dark chestnut, and he had a wing-backed chair propped near his mirrored sliding closet doors.
Looking back at him, she watched him unbutton his shirt, taking it off along with a black t-shirt and tossing them onto the chair. As he slipped off his shoes and socks, Califia crawled onto his bed, resting on her knees with her thighs spread wide. She skimmed her fingers around her breasts, cupping them in her hands and holding them up for him. His eyes were glued to her nipples as he slipped out of his pants and underwear.
Her eyes drifted down to look at his cock.
Jesus.
He was still semi-erect, but if he had more to fill out…
She felt a fiery electric spark race up her spine. He was the most beautiful naked man she had ever seen. Every ratio on his body was in proportion for complete perfection, and she couldn't get over the even rich color of skin. His white-gold necklace glowed against his ebony skin. Her eyes raked up and down his body and she was especially intrigued by the deep V lines that ran from his waist to his groin.
Plucking her nipples again, she rested her thighs back on her haunches. His eyes never left her breasts and she saw his dick grow to full hardness without him touching it, the weight of it making it bob up and down. A small gasp left her mouth and her fingers found their way between her legs as she played with her prominent slick folds. His eyes caught that movement as she teased her opening. She was learning all the things that got him off, and opening up her pussy lips and displaying them was a big turn on for him, so she tormented him a bit by opening and closing her folds while bouncing a bit on his bed, letting her pussy touch the expensive duvet. It worked. He grabbed his dick in one hand and slapped the weight of it in the other.
"Ooh..shit…" she whispered and fell all the way back on the bed, stunned by the loud thwack sound his dick made as he struck his palm several times with it. She bent her knees and spread her legs, working her fingers in small circles around her clit as she watched him approach her.
N'Jobu stroked his dick and kept his eyes fixed on her eyes. Califia sunk her fingers back inside herself, already super-charged by the sight of his cock and that fat sack of his. Her nose was crinkled and she felt her eyes squeeze shut as she smooshed her lips together. She craved another orgasm.
She felt her thighs being hooked and dragged to the edge of the bed. Eyes snapping open, she found N'Jobu down on his knees by the side of the bed with his face between her legs. Her thighs were hanging over his muscular arms.
"Lay back," he said in a soft voice.
"But I want to watch you," she whispered back.
He stared in her eyes for a few seconds.
"Then watch," he said, placing his entire mouth over her pussy.
"Ohhhhhhhhhhh."
N'Jobu sucked pussy liked he sucked on her tits; Gentle. Probing. And oh, so slow.
The hair on his goatee gave a delicious tickle to her private parts, and he flattened his wide tongue to roll over her folds. His tongue explored each side of her labia, and when he feasted on her clit with delicate licks and circular sucking motions, she felt like she wanted to cry because he was gazing at her with such adoration as he did it. Every now and then his eyes would close and he would use his mouth to hum and vibrate her pussy. Lapping up her juices, he dipped his tongue in and out, still holding her thighs apart.
"Hunnhhhhhh," came out of her mouth, and he slowed down to an even more excruciating snail-like pace. All she could think was, This nigga is tryna kill me before I even get the dick.
His fingers slid up her waist and ribcage, gripping her breasts in each hand, squeezing, shaking, and claiming their fullness. Once he toyed with her nipples, an inner connection was made and a strong sexual current shot down to her clit. She began to moan and he lifted his head to stare at her pussy.
"Damn…Califia…girl….look at your pussy twitching…."
She lifted herself higher on her elbows and looked down at his glistening lips, goatee, and cheeks as his eyes were riveted to her clit. She could see herself jumping down there. He was mesmerized, allowing his tongue to dip and lick inside her juicy wet opening, then watch the reaction of her clit as it continued to quiver on its own. He took his thumb and pressed down on her clit with light pressure, then gave a slow delicate swirl to it with his tongue.
"Bay-bee," she said, wanting to cum all in his mouth at that point.
"Califia, I need to cum, real quick. I just…I have to… I can't…ah…shit…"
N'Jobu released her thighs and she saw his right hand grab his dick and stroke it.
Wait. Wait. Wait.
Was he about to bust one while he hadn't finished her off?
Legs splayed open, and her pussy on the verge of imploding from his mouth, she watched him stare at her pussy while he long stroked himself. He placed his fingers under the fat head and tugged hard.
"Your pussy is still twitching, girl. Goddammit….goddammit…your pussy—"
He gritted his teeth as he aimed his dick towards the hem of the duvet and released a stream of semen along with a painful groan that excited her even more. After draining his dick, N'Jobu looked at the puddle of cum he left on the bottom of the bed cover.
"Fuck," he said, his breathing unsteady, his fingers releasing his cock.
Before she could bitch to him, he was back on her pussy with a vengeance, and this time she fell all the way on her back, letting him have his way. Staring at the ceiling all she could hear was the smacking of his lush lips, the sublime gushy sounds escaping between her thighs with each lap of his tongue. She reached down and stroked his head with her fingers. He nipped, sucked, and swallowed everything that she gave him, and when he started humming and making her skin vibrate at her core once more, she gratefully came undone, her hips and legs bucking with unrestrained ardor. He had to hold her thighs apart to keep her from smothering him.
Looking down at him, he had a smile on his face as he studied her reaction.
"Oh my God…Jobu…baby…what the fuck?!"
Her body jerked a bit, and she closed her eyes, drawing in deep breaths to control her trembling. N'Jobu crawled up alongside her and kissed her. She sucked her own taste from his mouth and loved every moment of it as he fingered her right breast.
Drawing her in closer, he draped his arm over her stomach and kissed her cheek.
"You taste so fucking good," he said.
She beamed as she felt her body sink into a languorous state. She was so happy that she didn't have to leave his bed right away. She had texted Soliel at the club that she wouldn't be coming to spend the night with her, so there was no need to tell her grandmother anything. She wasn't expected anywhere until Saturday evening.
She stretched her body like a well-fed cat and threw her arm across N'Jobu's, looking him in his eyes.
"You made me feel so good. Three orgasms…"
She stretched again, a small yawn escaping her lips.
"Tired?" he asked.
"It's been a long day."
"It has," he said, kissing her cheek again, "you want to take a shower?"
The fingers on his left hand were still stroking and plying her breasts with light caresses, and she felt hypnotized by the motion. He would circle a nipple, then squeeze her breasts so that her large areolas would peek out from his hand. He bent his head to suck and bite at them as he was talking to her.
"I can give you a long clean t-shirt, and I have a lot of different body washes you can choose from…"
She tried to concentrate on his words but his handling of her breasts had her revving up again.
"Damn, you suck titties so good, boy…" she said, arching her back as his nipple play had her opening her legs again.
She reached up and pulled his hand back down between her legs, then reached for his dick. It had gone slightly soft. Slightly.
"So, a shower?" he said.
"I want you in me," she said showing no restraint as she worked his cock.
His eyes bulged when she squeezed his balls.
"Didn't you promise me you would go deep inside me?"
She massaged his cock until it was standing at attention. He grabbed it away from her and dragged it up and down and around her opening. When he pressed it against her center, she looked down at it nervously. It was so big. She watched him tease circles in her folds. He didn't think he wasn't going to use a condom, did he? She tensed a bit when she thought he was going to shove himself inside her unprotected and placed her hand on his hand to stop him from trying.
He kissed her again and rolled over towards a pillow. He reached under and pulled out a condom. She felt her body go slack with relief. He tore open the packet and rolled the condom onto himself. It was clear and fit his huge dick like a thin layer of skin. It was a brand she was unfamiliar with. Of course, he had a dick size that was new to her too.
N'Jobu pulled her closer and kissed her, and she eased into his full lips. In all honesty, they could kiss all night and she would be enthralled with him, but his dick was jutting out and striking her belly. He brushed a finger over her breasts again then whispered in her ear.
"Are you ready for me?"
"Yes."
He stroked her clit again, then dipped his fingers lower.
"So wet," he muttered.
He positioned himself between her legs, and she rested her thighs in her own hands, lifting them up a bit, presenting herself to him. She saw his face quake when she did that. There was something about serving herself up to him that just sent him over the edge. He reached over and grabbed a pillow for her lifting her up a bit and placing it under her back for comfort.
He looked down into her eyes, and she felt a swelling in her heart. He kept his eyes on her, then looked down for a second as he lined up his cock. She felt him press the head of his dick inside her, and then his eyes were back on her.
He pushed in slowly, watching the expression on her face. She shifted her hips as he eased in more. He was a third of the way in when the sensation of being too full too fast overtook her and she tensed.
"Am I hurting you?" The concern in his voice made her more comfortable.
"Give me a second to get used to it," she gritted through her teeth. He pulled back a little.
"No, don't pull out…just…take it slow…I'll be okay," she said.
The sensation felt so good, and so overwhelming at the same time. There was no dick like new dick, and N'Jobu was packing the good stuff. She wiggled on him a bit, and he exhaled hard, still gazing at her face.
"You're so juicy… pussy gripping me tight…," he said. She watched a sheen of perspiration accumulate on his brow.
He gave her small shallow thrusts and she got used to the shocking fullness. She spread her legs wider, removing her hands from her thighs and resting them on the planes of his chest. He looked down at his dick going inside of her.
"You okay?" he asked, staring into her eyes again.
"Go deeper," she said.
His eyes reacted to her words and he shifted his hips and thrust in further, making her lips press together then open suddenly.
"Oh…shit…," she said wrapping her arms around his neck, gently scraping her nails on his nape.
They both could hear his dick going inside of her. He pulled out a few inches, then slid back in a little further than he was before. He was stretching her out and it felt incredible. She laid back to watch him. His eyes fixed on hers, but they took on an intimate unguarded look. She could tell he was turned on by her and probably wanted to do more but also wanted to make her comfortable with his restraint.
She couldn't take it anymore.
"Fuck me."
N'Jobu lifted up his knees throwing her legs over his arms and plunged his cock as deep as he could get. She tried to watch his dick going in and out of her, but at that point, she needed to be fucked well by him, and just clung to his neck. His hips slamming into her were unwavering as he stroked deep inside her tight walls. She could feel her juices spilling against his thighs thanks to all those orgasms he gave her earlier. She couldn't hold onto him any longer and just fell back on the bed. He shifted again and pressed himself on top of her, his mouth searing the side of her neck as he sucked on it while slamming his cock into her. She felt his mouth angle up her face until he was rasping into her ear, "I'm balls deep, girl…shit…you're taking all this dick…fuck."
She wrapped her legs around his waist and held tight to his back.
He was hers.
She laid back and pondered every sensation he gave her, his lips right at her ear as he whispered things to her and only her.
"Jobu, you feel so good in my pussy."
"This pussy is all mine, right?'
"Yes," she moaned, "you're in so deep baby…so deep…"
"I should've been fucking you a long time ago," he said, pulling out slowly. He swiveled his hips and slid back in even slower. She wanted him fast and hard and began bucking her hips.
"Harder, baby…," she said, wanting his balls to slap against her ass.
"Harder?"
"Yes…harder…and faster… I want you to cum."
He stopped moving and lifted up to stare down at her.
"Is that what you want?" He said pulling his dick all the way out and slamming it back into her fast. Her eyes snapped shut. She took a deep shaky breath and opened them again.
"Fuck me," she whimpered, her eyes watery, her legs becoming tired and heavy. He lifted her legs up and threw them over his shoulder and drove his cock in until he bottomed out.
"You asked for this…is this what you wanted?"
His thighs were so strong pressed into her and she was so deliriously happy that they could be loud, nasty, and alone.
"I want it, baby. Give it," she answered.
N'Jobu's face was like a man possessed. He fucked her with abandon and precise dickmanship. She thought of the time when Serah told her about the way he fucked, and that bitch wasn't lying at all. She just let him go, and he was hitting angles and spots in her pussy that she didn't know she had. She was going to be sore later, that was a given because his dick was relentless. And she was taking it. His bed rattled and she allowed her fingers to graze across his taut nipples. His deep penetration worked her back out, and she relished every pull on her muscles that he dragged out of her.
"Damn this pussy is so good," he said.
"It's all yours," she said, reaching up and twisting his gold chain.
"Say that again," he urged, his voice straining.
She pulled and twisted his chain, choking him a bit.
"This pussy is all yours. Take it. Take it all baby," she said, squeezing her thighs tight.
"Ah fuck…." His lips parted and he was exhaling through his mouth now. She wiggled her ass and internally, she squeezed her walls now that she was fully comfortable with his dick.
"I feel you," he said, closing his eyes above her. She still pulled on his chain.
"You want to cum?" she asked him, her own voice sounded like it was going to crack. She released his necklace.
"Fuck my dick," he said, spreading her legs out further and pressing them down into the mattress. He reached up and squeezed her tits, then reached down to grip her waist. He was losing it. She wiggled on him, matching his thrusts and tightening her pussy on his dick, the friction between them a molten wet mess. He looked down at where they were joined.
"Damn, you're creaming everywhere!"
Lifting her head, she looked down and saw that it was true.
"You made me do that," she said.
"That's my fault?"
"Yes."
He gave her the biggest smile and then his face contorted when she gyrated and clenched his dick at the same time.
"This… good…pussy…fuck...I'm cumming!"
They both looked down at his surging cock and watched as it pumped semen into the condom.
"That's it, baby, give it to me," she said, taking her fingers and widening her labia for him.
"You're so good, girl…I'm filling this shit up-"
His voice broke and then he was speaking Wakandan to her until his hips jerked.
He squeezed her left breast hard, then collapsed in a satisfied heap on top of her. She held him tight and kissed his forehead. When his breathing returned to normal she heard him say, "You better call whoever you need to. You aren't leaving here for the next two days."
Chapter 16 HERE.
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inadequeer · 8 years ago
Text
title: Hang Me Up to Dry
relationships: jayroy
summary: When Jason happens to be state side training with another teacher Talia set up, he runs into someone from a past life.
a/n: Set during lost days. I wanted to write Jason helping Roy get clean instead of Dinah and Hal
[on ao3]
      Star City was a shithole, but in a different way than Gotham was a shithole. Star City was where you went to make it big, and where you died of an overdose in swimming pool fifteen years later. A sprawling southern California city and the center of the nation’s film and television industry. Where Gotham had endless families of organized crime and psychopaths in masks, Star City just had crime, plain and simple. Gang bangers and Pushes ruled the city while the rich movie stars snorted cocaine in their beach homes and pretended the world didn’t exist outside of Star Hills.
        The air reeked of pollution and sweat, and something left sitting out in the sun for too long. You couldn’t throw a rock without hitting a homeless person or an aspiring actor. Jason didn’t know if he would burn Gotham or Star City down first if he had the chance, at least Star City had beaches so you could at least pretend it was pretty Gotham didn't even have that. He was only here on business, he never would have set foot in the hole otherwise, learning how to make poisons and toxins from a cruel Chinese woman who doubled as a heroin supplier. (Another pointless errand from Talia.)
        He was sprawling out on the couch watching some Spanish soap opera that he had gotten invested into while he waited for Soo to return, when he caught the tail-end of a conversation between two thugs who ran the streets for Soo, selling her product. In other words— scumbag drug dealers. They were both Mexican like him, one with a close shaved head and a tacky goatee, and the other was decked out in gang tattoos, including a tasteful teardrop inked onto his cheekbone.
“If we're short again this month, she’s going to kill us.”
“Relax. We just need to find Harper. He’s gotta be itching for his fix by now.”
“Haven’t seen him in a while. Maybe he finally ate it.”
“I hope not. He's a piece of shit, but he’s a regular.”
They whispered to each other in hushed Spanish— as if they thought because he was from Gotham he couldn’t understand them. The chatter was nothing interesting, but the name caught Jason’s attention. It was a name from a past life, a lazy grin, messy red hair, memories fleeting behind his eyes like a forgotten song. A person, he’d actually remembered a person, that almost never happened.
“Hola,” He greeted, stormy eyes bright and intense as he stood up and gave the two gangsters a casual grin. “Who’s Harper?” He asked in Spanish. They gave each other uneasy looks, unsure of what to do when cornered by an eighteen-year-old who looked ready to snap either of their necks.
“He’s just some white trash junkie. He’s a regular, but he hasn’t been seen for a while.” Jason cracked his knuckles and tried not to think about it, a mysterious someone slumped over a table, blood running down their nose with the needle still in the other hand.
“Can’t be a good business practice to off your regulars, but I guess that can’t be helped when you’re dealing drugs.” He mused to himself. After a month of working with Soo, it was clear that heroin was the deadliest thing she created. “What’s he look like? This Harper guy.”
“Like every other junkie living on the street. Why do you care kid?”
Jason whipped out his gun from the waistband of his pants and pointed it evenly at the first man’s chest without ever looking away. “Just answer the fucking question before I get mad.” He growled, finger tapping the trigger lightly. The one with the goatee responded by pulling out his gun, and snarling something at Jason. But the tattooed one just gave Jay a funny look.
“Hey hey— Whoa. Easy ese.” The tattooed guy said, raising both hands in the universal sign of ‘Don’t Shoot.’ “His name is Roy Harper I think, pasty, gangly sonovabitch with long red hair and usually wearing some stupid trucker hat.”
“I hear he’s a mutant.”
“Used to be one of those fucking superhero types, I heard, but now look at him. No better than the rest of us.” He scoffed, but Jason had stopped listening. Words weren’t his strong suit but Roy, that sounded right. So he had known… one of those hero types? How the hell? Had he really been in deep enough shit as a kid to get mixed up with capes?
Talia had told him not to go looking for his past. And she was right, it didn’t matter anymore, his past was just a distraction. But the opportunity was right there. What if this Roy had been his friend? And now he was hooked on some bad stuff. These guys said he was a regular, and if anyone knew what that looked like it was the sellers. Jason mulled this information over, chewing on the inside of his cheek thoughtfully before he finally made a decision. He slid his gun back into his waistband and gave the two of them a cheeky salute, tapping two fingers to his temple and then extending the hand towards them.
“Well, that’s all I need to know. Thanks a million you guys.”
        Jason had learned (remembered?) a long time ago that if you wanted to find a junkie the best place to look was Chinatown, so that was his first stop. He wasn’t sure what was really driving him to find Roy, god knows he had more important things on his plate than some barely remembered junkie, but Jason had so few shreds of his old life left to him. No matter who he is, this Roy deserved better than dying alone in the gutter.
Anger boiled inside of him, as he swerved through lanes of Star City traffic in his motorcycle.
        Just like home he thought bitterly pulling the hood of his sweatshirt up. Every big city in the world had their ‘bad parts of town’ and they were all pretty much the same, and no matter how hard he had tried he had never escaped — not really. He had made sure to park in the more touristy area because he wasn’t a complete dumbass and he didn’t want his bike stolen. From there he looked for the shadier areas, back alleys and rundown shops and the like. If you knew what to look for picking a drug dealer in a crowded street no problem. He watched a hooded man make a sale, palming off cash for a packet of white powder before he approached.
“You sellin’ smack?” He asked in a hushed voice, making a show of looking paranoid, and glancing around.
“Aren’t you a little young for H kid?” Great, a drug dealer with a conscience. Not where he expected a morality lecture.
“Who cares?” He snapped, crossing his arms. “If you’re too high and mighty to sell to a “kid” like me I’ll just go find someone else.”
“Hey, slow down it’s not like that. You have the money?” Jason reached into his pocket, then to his other and winced.
“Shit.”
“Sorry kid, you don’t have the cash you’re shit out of luck.”
“Please man! I just gotta find a buddy of mine, you know a guy named Roy Harper? He owes me big time, once I find him I’ll be able to pay the rest. Maybe you could float me until then?”
“No way in hell mijo, but if you want to get that money you’re owed be my guest. I know Harper and there’s a loft just south of here— old brick building where he and a couple’a other junkies go to shoot up. You go get your money and I’ll be right here.” Jason looked pained, ran a hand across his brow, where he didn’t even have to pretend to be sweating since it was hot as hell outside.
“Fine. Fuck you man.” He snapped, stalking off in the direction he had been pointed. The act dropped but his scowl didn’t. Shit. What the hell was he getting into. He shouldn’t care about some random ass junkie he didn’t even know anymore. So why did he anyway? Maybe he wanted to be the good guy for once. Maybe because he knew what it was like to die alone.
        Either way he didn’t stop, not until he was in front of the boarded-up brick building and forcing the door open. There was probably a secret entrance people used, but when you had super strength you don’t need a secret entrance. The smell of garbage, mold, and piss hit him and he groaned out loud. Yep, just like home, he thought as he pulled his shirt up over his nose, and flicked on the flashlight on his phone. He had stayed in places like this, he remembered that now. Jason had suspected he was from the street for a while now and this was only confirming it. Honestly he wasn’t surprised; how could anyone forget a smell like that, how it clung to you wherever you went, filling your senses and suffocating you.
Jason picked his way through the building carefully. From what he could tell it was an old department store, leaking pipes drooping from the ceiling and half assembled mannequins watching him with their painted on eyes and Jason didn’t care for that shit at all. The dealer had said they shot up in the loft, so finding the first floor empty wasn’t surprising. He moved towards the stairs, his gaze sweeping across the empty room with what some might call paranoia. He just wasn’t a fan of dolls, mannequins, or bugs and could you blame him? No.
        He was staring at a large black blob on one of the mannequins naked bodies trying to determine if it was a gargantuan cockroach or not when he stumbled on a disembodied mannequin head with a loud crash as he swore and grabbed the closest thing next to him. Which was a portion of the rotted wooden staircase, which he easily tore off as he fell.
“Fuck! Fuck shit son of a piss fucking bitch—“ He seethed, throwing the ruined wood to ground and jumping to his feet. Well if anyone thought they were alone in this building they sure as hell didn’t anymore. He was immensely grateful that no one had been there to see that as he brushed himself off and tried to calm down. “Okay, there was my heart attack of the day. Let’s not do this again.” He muttered to himself, shaking his head. He climbed the stairs, scanned the second floor before continuing upward. The building had five stories, and when he did finally get to the top floor he knew this was the right place. Tables were set up set up and littered with old Chinese food boxes and other garbage, with a couple of lamps scattered about, connected to long orange power strips that ran around the whole room. There was a shitty couch pushed up against the wall. It was clearly the place the dealer had been talking about, but it was empty, and judging by the smell of that take out, no one had been back here in days
“Damnit.” He hissed, climbing out onto the fire escape, unable to bear the smell any longer. The sun had set by now but it was still hot, street lights lighting up the city just as well as the sun. He took a moment to clear his head and think about where else he could look, probably the shelters, ask some other junkies if they knew Roy. When he stepped off the metal and landed in the road below he heard a low groan from behind a pile of trash and a couple of garbage cans.
“Unnnn…” Jason kicked the cans out of the way and the person who had been hiding behind it flinched backwards. Jason got a look at him from the light thrown down the alley by a passing car. He was scrawny, and dressed in a shitty tank top and tucker hat, with long red hair and green tattoos decorating his biceps.
“Roy.” He breathed out. Holy shit. Just seeing the guy’s face was bringing a burst of memories, if only scraps. Roy’s grin, his jawline when it was shaved, his laugh, Jason’s pulse racing at the sight of his arms…
Oh, god, oh god. Roy had been. His crush. Well, that answered the question of if dying had made him gay.
"Please tell me you're here to kill me,” present Roy moaned. This Roy was hardly recognizable from the snapshots remembered. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who had been to hell in these last few years.
“Nope. Sorry.” He reached out a hand to help Roy up, but he smacked it away.
“Fuck.” Roy swore vehemently, “If you’re not going to kill me then get me some goddamn drugs.” He whispered, his voice hoarse, his chapped lips cracking and bleeding. “Please, please please please. Common man, I’m dying here. I’ll do anything.” Jason grit his teeth and this time just fucking grabbed Roy.
“Not gonna do that either. Come on.”
“Get off me man! Let me go!” Roy snarled.
“I’m trying to save your life asshole!” Jason yelled back, shaking Roy violently, and sending him cross eyed.
“Fuck, oh fuck. Ouch it hurts, it hurts it hurts!” He sobbed, gripping his stomach and falling to his  knees in pain. As he pulled Roy up once more another car drove past, once again casting it’s headlights down the alley and illuminating the them. Roy went pale and stumbled backwards.
“You’re—!!” He choked out, staring up at Jason in shock. “You’re supposed to be dead. No this isn't real, you’re dead.” He insisted to himself. Jason didn’t argue with him on that front, he was clearly going through withdrawal and right now Jason’s priority was to get him off the street. He picked Roy up easily, the guy was thin as a rail and even without super strength Jason probably still would have been able to lift him like he weighed nothing.
“Jason…? Jason I’m sorry.” Roy was babbling, clinging to the fabric of Jason’s sweatshirt desperately and he chewed on the inside of his cheek. This was a bad idea. If Roy ended up telling everyone he was alive that would really throw a wrench in things. Roy probably knew other mask types  and that was a group he did not want up in his business.
“I don’t know who Jason is man, my name is Peter Reyes.” The lie felt wrong on his lips but it’s what he had to do. Better to let the world think he was still dead.
“Oh…”
“I think you’re going through withdrawal. How do you feel?”
“Cold, Shit— Ahn my gut is on fire.” He grimaced, and Jason nodded. All symptoms of heroin withdrawal.
“Alright, I’m gonna get you some place safe. Hold tight buddy.” He adjusted Roy on his shoulder, hoping the man wouldn’t throw up on his hoodie and walked south until he found a shitty motel. He helped Roy lean against the outside of the front desk and gave him a stern look.
“Wait here okay. I’m gonna get us a room.” Roy didn’t answer, instead he doubled over in pain his shoulders shuddering as tremors ran through his body.
The woman at the front desk didn’t even blink as she handed Jason the room key, and Jason figured she had seen a hell of lot weirder things. He dragged Roy up to room and to the bathroom, helping him kneel over to toilet as he began to wretch, holding his greasy hair out of his face.
Deja-vu made his head spin, the feeling like he’d been in this exact same situation before and when he looked down it wasn’t Roy puking into the shitty hotel toilet it was… some woman, with messy hair dyed bright red and smeared makeup. She looked like she had been crying, and looking at her made Jason feel angry and sad at the same time. She had the same track marks up her arms that Roy did, and the look she gave Jason was a complicated mix of pity and disgust.
“Drink some water.” Jason grunted, his brain snapping back to the present, to the man before him. “You need to stay hydrated.”
“Thanks…” Roy said wearily, taking the water bottle Jason pushed into his hands. He took a few slow sips, his hands still shaking before he asked “Do I know you? You said you’re not Ja— who I thought you were so who are you? I don’t know any Peter Reyes. Did Angel send you? Because you can tell him to go fuck himself.”
“Don’t know any angel. I’m just a guy who wants to help.”
“Yeah sure, and I'm Superman. What were you doing snooping around in that place anyway?” Even going through withdrawal he was still observant as hell. Jason had a feeling that Roy was a hell of a lot smarter than he let on.
“None of your business."
“Right, whatever guess I’m in no position to argue. So why are you doing this? I assume you’re trying to help me and you’re not actually a deranged psycho killer who brought me here to rape and murder me and then leave my disfigured body in the bathtub, because right now this whole situation kind of reads like a Criminal Minds episode.” Jason snorted at that and shook his head.
“Nah, you’re not worth the trouble.”
“Wow, fuckin’ rude.” Roy’s laugh was thin but genuine and he pushed himself up a little so he was leaning against the sink. “But seriously, what do you want?”
“Nothing.”
“I saw, fuh-fuck shit… I saw you jump out of that building. You a mutant?” He grunted gratefully when Jason brought over the comforter from off the bed and let him wrap himself in it. “You know about me? You gotta… That’s- that’s why you came. You want me to build you somethin’.” So he had a tech mutation or something? Jason was lucky that he had recognized Roy’s name, the fact that he couldn’t remember the details of his mutation— or if he was a mutant wasn’t surprising.
“No. That’s not it.”
“Then what is it. Why the fuck are you doing this?”
“Maybe I was hoping that you’d, y’know… Fall in love with me.” Jason wasn’t sure why he said it, and the second he did he felt like a fucking idiot, but he smiled boyishly and owned it. Roy laughed out loud when he said it and Jason liked that laugh.
“Oh yeah, that is such bullshit.” He said, grinning as he wiped his runny nose and scratched his face. “Trust me kid you don’t want me to fall in love with you. My ex-wife can tell you that much.”
Jason just shrugged in response, sitting down in front of Roy on the hard tile floor with a sigh.
“Can I ask you something?”
Roy raised a curious eyebrow but shrugged. “Sure.”
“Who’s— Who was Jason? The person you thought I was…” There was something in Roy’s eyes that he couldn’t place— grief maybe. Over some street rat kid like him?
“He was a kid I knew…” Roy looked up at the ceiling for a moment, shifting restlessly. “He was a good kid, he was smart, god he was so smart, and he was funny and brave, like crazy brave, like run into a burning house and save the puppy brave… and he died when he was fifteen.” Jason swallowed hard and looked down at his hands. “I used to be one of those superheroes you know, running around in a mask and shit— I know right, funny huh. I knew it was dangerous but none of that had ever seemed real until he… He saved my ass when we were kids, this one time in Pasadena he pushed me out of the way of some gunfire and ended up getting his dumb ass shot.”
Jason’s side tingled, his body remembering the sensation of a bullet passing through it. “He never let me hear the end of it, always making jabs at me reminding me how I owed him my life and how he got shot for me and shit but I never got to thank him, not genuinely you know? That eats at me every day. I think if he ever saw me now, and how I ended up he would kick my ass. ‘I saved your life for this? So you could become some piece of shit junkie?!’  but he showed us all what it really meant to be a hero. To wear the mask.” Roy shook his head to himself and Jason was shocked into silence. Was that really how he was remembered? As a hero? The thought left him shook to his very core and suddenly he couldn’t stand to hear about it anymore. He had to get away. He pushed himself up so violently it startled Roy.
“You don’t know that… Maybe he wasn’t as great as you think.” He said through his clenched jaw, his fists curled into a tight ball before he crossed the small distance to the hotel room door and slammed it behind him. He scrubbed angrily at his face, rubbing his eyes until he saw stars behind his eyelids. Then he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit up, taking a long drag and letting it burn to the filter before he even considered going back inside that room. He smoked a second cigarette before he did, slower this time his hands no longer shaking.
This was a mistake. Coming to this city was a mistake, looking for Roy was a mistake. Fuck even just leaving Talia’s protection was a mistake. He would take being a blood bag for fucking Ra’s over this feeling. It felt like it was eating him inside out, hollowing him and filling the hole with molten rock. He wanted to throw up, he wanted to start a fight, he wanted to run. He smoked another cigarette instead.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck!! He ground the cigarette out on the wall of the motel with venom (the stucco was already disgusting, another black mark wouldn’t make a difference) before he came back inside. The smell of cigarette smoke drifting in with him, clinging to his clothes and making Roy sit up straighter, his fingers itching at his arms idly.
“You good?”
“Yeah. Just needed a smoke.”
“Got one for me?”
“My last one, sorry.” It was a deadass lie and Roy knew it, but he didn’t push the issue. “I’m gonna order pizza. What do you want?”
“Pineapple, anchovies with mushroom.”
“You’re disgusting. No, fuck you we’re getting meat lovers.” The ghost of a smile played on Roy’s lips and he shrugged.
“Whatever you say bossman.”
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