New ficlet by Sannea
The dingy, darkened interior does nothing to dim the sheen of light bouncing of his blond head.
A couple of skinny not-quite-legal looking boys send him angry territorial glances and the rest of the patrons leer at him, at both of us actually. Not that I feel flattered.
This fucking place comes uncomfortable close to reminding me what I might have become if not for Casa Novotny and my advertising genius.
It however doesn’t remind me of what I might become because I’d sooner…I tell Justin that, if not in so many words.
“…or to accept the fact that youth and beauty are fleeting. That time will inevitably leave its mark. And that we should accept our mortality with grace and dignity”, he replies with the smug, precocious expression that once made me reluctantly realize there was more to him than one quick charitable initiation fuck….or two…
Little smartass twat, I think and glare at him good-naturedly as I settle at the bar, careful not to wipe the sleeves of my butter soft leather jacket on the greasy spots on the bar.
I don’t say it though. These days I’ve learnt not to follow up on the more witty parts of his repartee and besides I fucking meant the part about dying young. Maybe we could strike a deal. I promise him my undying devotion, something for which he still seems to have a foolishly romantic craving for, fiddler jerk or not, and in return he can promise to let me fuck him through the mattress one last time and then smother me in my sleep the first time I ever seriously remind him of gramps sitting over there next to him and winking like someone stuck a pole so far up his ass it makes his bushy old eyelashes twitch.
That might actually almost be worth the sacrifice, I think, scaring the shit out of myself for a second.
Fortunately here again are the words of youthful wisdom and a great ass to pull me out of my pathetic lesbionic thoughts.
“Until then I could really clean up this place”, Justin continues in a boyish smirk, eyes widening seductively as he turns back to me and shares the joke.
The expression on his face and the way he leans towards me sends blood pooling to a place that reminds me I am not *that* old yet and for the life of me I can’t be bothered to object to the cheeky, almost possessive glance he sends me while all the eyes in the bar rests on us.
I pat the stool next to me and he sits down comfortably close to me as we continue scheming towards the downfall of yet another villain in Gayopolis like a pair of timeless superheroes.
A couple of skinny not-quite-legal looking boys send him angry territorial glances and the rest of the patrons leer at him, at both of us actually. Not that I feel flattered.
This fucking place comes uncomfortable close to reminding me what I might have become if not for Casa Novotny and my advertising genius.
It however doesn’t remind me of what I might become because I’d sooner…I tell Justin that, if not in so many words.
“…or to accept the fact that youth and beauty are fleeting. That time will inevitably leave its mark. And that we should accept our mortality with grace and dignity”, he replies with the smug, precocious expression that once made me reluctantly realize there was more to him than one quick charitable initiation fuck….or two…
Little smartass twat, I think and glare at him good-naturedly as I settle at the bar, careful not to wipe the sleeves of my butter soft leather jacket on the greasy spots on the bar.
I don’t say it though. These days I’ve learnt not to follow up on the more witty parts of his repartee and besides I fucking meant the part about dying young. Maybe we could strike a deal. I promise him my undying devotion, something for which he still seems to have a foolishly romantic craving for, fiddler jerk or not, and in return he can promise to let me fuck him through the mattress one last time and then smother me in my sleep the first time I ever seriously remind him of gramps sitting over there next to him and winking like someone stuck a pole so far up his ass it makes his bushy old eyelashes twitch.
That might actually almost be worth the sacrifice, I think, scaring the shit out of myself for a second.
Fortunately here again are the words of youthful wisdom and a great ass to pull me out of my pathetic lesbionic thoughts.
“Until then I could really clean up this place”, Justin continues in a boyish smirk, eyes widening seductively as he turns back to me and shares the joke.
The expression on his face and the way he leans towards me sends blood pooling to a place that reminds me I am not *that* old yet and for the life of me I can’t be bothered to object to the cheeky, almost possessive glance he sends me while all the eyes in the bar rests on us.
I pat the stool next to me and he sits down comfortably close to me as we continue scheming towards the downfall of yet another villain in Gayopolis like a pair of timeless superheroes.