#tommy nooka/the hitcher

[ancientbooshartifacts]

One Blowhole is the Same as the Next to Me.

Author: Thymeth

Year: 2007

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Tommy/The Hitcher

Trees, trees, bloody palm trees everywhere! They might have made a path or something. This place was completely out of order, unclipped weeds everywhere and branches running riot. The zoo itself may be shabby, but this was downright neglected, like a prostitute's fanny. The Hitcher cursed his way through the dense foliage, catching his coat on the bracken and brushing his hat against low-hanging branches. It had to be here somewhere. He looked at the map again. It wasn't a good map, it seemed to have been drawn by a four-year-old. But despite this, its meaning was clear enough: just above the green squiggly lines was a blue circle with the words 'Porpuss Pol' printed on it. The Hitcher grinned to himself as his stomach clenched in painful anticipation like a claw pinching at his gut. A whole pool of porpoises. Life couldn't get much better than that. He stuck the map back in his coat pocket and stepped over a log into a small clearing. In the middle of it lay a heap of old ashes. He looked around. Was this a part of the zoo? Did people build fires in zoos? Or had he taken a wrong turning and ended up in some other forest? In which case: fuck. He bent down and examined the ashes closer. They were still warm. "Good evening, stranger." The Hitcher straightened up instantly and glanced around, his spine running cold. Was he being followed? Was someone onto him? " 'Oo's there?" "It is I." The Hitcher continued scowling into the shady trees, trying to find the voice. "And 'oo's 'I', then?" "Me, Tommy," came the voice again, "Down here." The Hitcher turned around and a few feet away he saw two bright eyes shining eagerly up at him from inside a dark hood. It was a very short man. Or at least the Hitcher assumed it was a man: it could be a dog on its hind legs, judging by the half-retarded look in those eyes and a tongue sticking out ever so slightly. "Right," the Hitcher said, releasing a breath he hadn't realised he was holding, "Look, squire, I ain't got time to chat, I've got business to attend to." "Oh, I can help you if you like," Tommy said, "I am very wise." " 'Course you are," the Hitcher said. It was probably best to humour the old fart while deciding which way was best to leave by: right or left. "I am," Tommy insisted eagerly, "I know everything about everything around here." The Hitcher halted his thoughts about leaving and stroked his chin. Perhaps this munchkin could be useful after all. "Then maybe you can 'elp a weary traveller like meself," he said, "I'm looking for the Porpoise Pool, might you know where it is?" "Ah, the Porpoise Pool," Tommy said in an equally thoughtful manner, nodding to himself, "I wouldn't recommend you go there, traveller." "And why not?" "I'll tell you," Tommy said and beckoned the Hitcher closer with a long finger. And against his better judgement, the Hitcher bent down. There was something about this man. He seemed completely trustworthy somehow, as if he was so packed-full of knowledge that only a fool would dare question him. And the Hitcher was no fool. Anyway, if he tried any funny business, the Hitcher had his knife in his pocket. "Porpoises are evil," Tommy whispered hurriedly and straightened up again, looking around nervously as if to see if anyone had heard him. The Hitcher looked down at the strange little man and couldn't help grinning. "That suits me just fine," he chuckled, "I'm evil too. I'm the most evil you'll ever meet, me." "There's only one thing more evil than porpoises," Tommy said solemnly, "And that's dolphins. Luckily there aren't any dolphins in the zoo. I made sure of that." "Oh, you amuse me, gov'nor," the Hitcher said and made to leave, "But I'm off to see them little critters nonetheless." "No!" Tommy shouted and shuffled sideways, trying to block the Hitcher's way, "I cannot let you go." "And ya think you can stop me?" the Hitcher asked, looking down at the wide face frowning up at him. "I intend to try," Tommy answered, putting his hands firmly on his hips, "No-one should have to experience the evil that is mammals that live underwater." "The what?" "Mammals," Tommy repeated, "Animals with lungs." "I know what mammals are, Tom Thumb," the Hitcher said, "But evil? Nothing's more evil than me." "All mammals that live underwater are evil," Tommy said, lowering his voice, "They're so evil they're not allowed up on land." "Then why am I on land?" the Hitcher asked smugly. What a glaring flaw in this strange man's logic, visible to the world like a child's blood trickling down cobbled streets. "Well, you're green," Tommy said matter-of-factly. "Yeah? D'you wanna make something of it? 'Cause I'll have ya slashed up before I've even pulled me knife out me pocket!" The Hitcher patted his pocket and felt the outline of his knife through the material, the weight of it heavy against his thigh like a lover's touch. "That's not what I meant!" Tommy squeaked and took a step back, "Green means evil in nature. That's why there aren't any green mammals." "What about frogs?" "They're not mammals." "Budgies." "Not mammals." "Sloths!" "They're not green, they have algae growing in their fur. Don't you know anything?" "Look, squire, I'm a busy man, I 'ave to get to the Porpoise Pool," the Hitcher snapped, growing very impatient with this silly banter. "And I tell you I cannot let you." "Well, if they're evil and I'm evil, no 'arms done to neither. Can't argue with that, eh?" Tommy stared up at him a moment, clearly thinking the statement through, his tongue re-appearing between his lips and his eyebrows wriggling furiously like two caterpillars in a bowl of milk. "Well, why do you want to go to the Porpoise Pool anyway?" he asked finally, "This is a big zoo, there are many animals to look at." " 'Cause I'm gonna rape them!" the Hitcher shouted, throwing his arms skyward as if summoning lightning, his voice echoing between the trees. Everything seemed to shiver with fear, leaves clinging to their stems for dear life and the grass trembling as if in a storm. Evil always had that effect on nature and the Hitcher relished in it, sapping the world around him of its life-force. He lowered his arms again and the forest stilled, quieter and weaker now. He caught sight of Tommy standing there frowning, hands still on his hips, looking unimpressed. "You cannot rape porpoises," he said simply. "Watch me," the Hitcher answered, "I'm pure evil, I do as I please." "As a zoo keeper, I cannot let you rape animals, even if they are evil." "And how d'you propose to stop me?" the Hitcher asked, "I may be thin as a shoestring but I'm twice yer height." "I," Tommy said and quick as a flash had his hands on the Hitcher's hips, "intend to suck every drop of beastly desire out of you." "Indeed," the Hitcher answered, calm like a murderer in a pistol duel, "Many people 'ave tried to still the green fire burning inside me and none lived to tell the tale." "I don't care," Tommy answered, drawing himself up to his full height, which made less than an inch of difference, "I may dislike porpoises but I cannot have you rape them. As a zookeeper I'm proud to do anything to keep my animals safe." "Very well," the Hitcher answered, "If ya think you 'ave it in ya. And if ya don't, 'oo says I won't go and rape them slags after I've finished you off, eh?" "That's a risk I'm willing to take," Tommy answered, pale face stern like a kamikaze pilot's, "It's a zookeeper's sacred duty to keep the animals safe and if I die I'll die proud knowing my life was not wasted." He seemed so dedicated it was almost a shame to sentence him to such a fate, the Hitcher reflected. But he expelled that thought instantly. If this man was willing to risk his life for a couple of wannabe dolphins, so be it. And the Hitcher was not someone to turn down a free blowjob. "Go on then, Thumbelina. Rock me boat before I harpoon yer babies." And even before the Hitcher had finished that sentence, Tommy had begun unbuttoning his trousers. A chilly wisp of air drifted up the Hitcher's legs as Tommy pulled them down. But the cold was instantly forgotten as Tommy shuffled closer and rested his chest against the Hitcher's knobbly knees, one arm around the Hitcher's leg and his other hand wrapping around the Hitcher's cock. He seemed completely unafraid, face set in stern concentration like a chimney sweep balancing on top of a chimney. As his hand began moving, tantalisingly rough and warm, the Hitcher knew this was someone who would not give up his claim on life easily. And as the Hitcher thought of Tommy withering in pain at his feet, his excitement grew and the porpoises slipped further and further from his mind with every stoke of Tommy's hand. Tommy dipped forward and slipped his mouth around the Hitcher's cock and involuntarily the Hitcher gasped, the heated sensation taking him by surprise. Tommy's mouth was like liquid lead around him, heavy and airless and hot. And as Tommy moved, mouth and hand as one, the Hitcher growled, his eyes slipping shut against it all and his knees weakening unfairly. How dared this man reduce him to a whimpering stick of goo like this? The Hitcher couldn't have that. He grabbed hold of the back of Tommy's hooded head, clawing back his lost control. "Let go," Tommy snapped, pulling away and leaving the Hitcher's cock wet and suddenly icy cold, "Let go or I bite." "I don't think so, squire," the Hitcher answered and forced Tommy's face back towards his crotch, "I'm evil; I do as I please." "Is that your excuse for everything? You're evil?" "Yes, now suck or I'll rape yer baby pandas as well." Tommy frowned up at the Hitcher before setting to work again. But whatever little passion Tommy might have had earlier was gone now and he seemed just to want to get it over with, truly living up to his words about sucking every last drop of beastly desire out of the Hitcher, the pressure like quicksand around the Hitcher's cock, greater than ever. And the Hitcher, evil as always, watched on in perverse enjoyment as Tommy worked ferociously, cheeks tight and droplets of sweat on his forehead inside his hood. But he didn't back down, fingers digging into the Hitcher's leg, growling. And like a balloon on the verge of bursting, the Hitcher balanced precariously on the edge of orgasm, refusing himself to let go just yet, wanting to see how far Tommy could be pushed. But Tommy was determined, fierce and never-relenting, and before he really knew it, like when dusk tiptoes unnoticed into night, the Hitcher came deep in Tommy's throat. Tommy tried to pull free but the Hitcher held him in place, dizzy as if on opium as he rode out the orgasm, forcing himself to stay upright, his legs unreliable like jellied eels. Tommy groaned again as if he was choking on mud and the Hitcher let him go. He almost toppled backwards and started coughing, hands on his chest. "I warned ya," the Hitcher said and pulled his trousers back on, "Ya ain't got what it takes." Any second now Tommy would keel over and die like a seabird in an oil spill. But Tommy kept to his feet, coughing roughly, bent over like an old woman but certainly not dead. "Oi," the Hitcher said, giving Tommy a kick in the shin, "Why ain't ya dead?" Tommy coughed one last time and looked up slowly. "Cheese?" he whizzed breathlessly. "Cheese?" the Hitcher asked, "Why ain't ya dead, you're supposed to be dead. No-one ever survives me voodoo milk." "Cheese?" Tommy repeated and patted his chest, "Let us dance." So Tommy refused to die, did he? Decided to go mad instead? Well, the Hitcher could always slash him up. "We all dance, but do we really dance?" Tommy said, grinning widely up at the Hitcher. Or, the Hitcher reflected, why get his knife all bloody? This lunatic wouldn't survive three minutes alone out here. Why waste his energy on the freak show when he could spend it on much more rewarding things? Like raping porpoises. "Right, squire," the Hitcher said, "I'm off. Good day to you." "Remember," Tommy said, turning unsteadily as the Hitcher left, "Porpoises are evil!" "They are evil," the Hitcher answered, unable to hide a smirk, "But are they really evil?" He could almost hear Tommy's brain trying to work out that puzzle as he pushed his way back between some trees. This day would go down in history as one of the better: not only would he have a whole pool of porpoises to himself, but he had also driven a zookeeper mad. Being evil had to be the best thing in the world.