Then and Now
Story title: Then and Now, Texas verse
Rating: NC-17
Configurations : M/m
Warnings: None
Word Count: Approx. 1,900
Summary: An answer to wickhouse2005 and callie2291 on a recent meme challenge to get me to write...whatever. Wick wanted a young Texas with Carnegie and Callie wanted Texas and Kyle. Enjoy, my friends.
A/N: A standard disclaimer for all of my fiction, the work is un beta'd. I try to catch all of my mistakes but alas I am human. Any correction suggestions are welcome but please be kind. *puppy dog eyes*
Feedback: Is always welcome *grins*
Previous parts: The index page for the Texas series can be found here.
Then
Sweat and gun powder hung in the air. The Venucchis' had been squashed easily. Texas swallowed the grin as the fat Don knelt clammy and ruddy at Carnegie’s feet. He expected the electric surge of the bullet being discharged from the pistol into the waiting skull. The beauty of blood and bone and brain matter would paint the street as a testament to another territory under the syndicate's reign.
Instead, Carnegie lowered the gun that had been resting against the shivering forehead and replaced it with a kiss. Don Venucchi gave a muted cry and kissed the polish of Marcus Carnegie’s shoes. Disappointed, Texas turned to join the ranks. But the cold calculating gaze of the mob boss met his own. An almost imperceptible rise of brow stalled him. The expectation could not be ignore or he would feel the kiss of steel against his own brow.
Swallowing the acid of submission, Texas lowered his own head in respect.
*~*
Sex and musk was thick, a filmy sheath that tickled the nose and coated the taste buds. The celebration had gone on for hours. Texas chafed at his lower status, a sentry guarding the debauchery within. Smooth limbs, curved asses, and pouting lips beckoned. He had picked out a small blonde that he had hoped to coax into his secluded corner. His cock was heavy and screamed for release. The little bitch had blown him a kiss before going down on an overlord from the dockside.
He grabbed a glass of champagne from a waiter that sailed by him. His mouth puckered at the unfamiliar taste. Scanning his perimeter, he looked back at the party raging. Carnegie sat like a king on his throne. But instead of fucking the slender young man with gray eyes, the sight made him frown. The slave was naked and collared, that was not unusual. It was the complete look of peace on the elfish features as he pressed into Carnegie’s touch.
Looking back at the little bitch who was riding the fat overlord’s cock, Texas frowned. What was it like to want to be the weak one? A slave to the hungers of the syndicate, the protected and the coddled? He had enough of being weak as a child and his cowing down to the syndicate boss only went so far. The man would respect him because he was no one’s bitch.
From the peaceful slave to the cock riding whore, Texas wondered.
*~*
He paced the office. The weight of his gun was a comfort because he hated the unknown. It was his intel that brought the Skye Group down. The bastards thought they could cheat Carnegie? It made his blood boil that his overlord, Garrett, would get the reward. Texas choked down a snarl and continued to pace.
What the fuck was going on? Carnegie had two muscle bound brutes deliver him here and kept watch at the door. His neck prickled. Turning with his hand on his gun, Marcus Carnegie watched him with a smirk.
“You are making quite the name for yourself, boy.”
Texas’ lips peeled back and kept his hand where it was. Carnegie’s smirk turned into a broad grin.
“You are being rewarded, I am told you have penchant for blondes?” Carnegie moved aside to allow a cloaked and hooded body into the office. “Through there is a bedroom. But remember it belongs to me, damage it…” The threat hung heavy in the air.
Texas stood alone with the hidden figure before him. Uncomfortable with ceremony, he reached out and jerked the cowl aside.
It was a boy. His face delicate and painted, soft blonde hair rested against narrow shoulders, a nondescript leather collar was cinched about a slender throat. Clear blue eyes watched his every move, part fear and part curiosity.
Pushing the cloak aside, the boy was displayed for his eyes. Naked and nearly hairless, bits of jewelry flashing in the dim light, the boy’s cock hung soft between narrow thighs.
“Do you have a name?”
The boy blinked and tilted his head to the side, the fear changed to amusement. As if the little slave boy knew more than he. Texas wanted to snarl, to put the brat in his place. Wet lips parted, the boy replied, “Whatever you want it to be, sir.”
Dark needs overrode better judgments. Texas wanted to possess, to control, to own. He lifted the boy bodily and kicked the door open to the hidden bedroom. The beauty of the slave was too perfect, the movements, the slide of skin too practiced. His hands became brutal, wringing out gasps of surprised pain and unwillingly pleasure. Texas held the boy’s hands above his thrashing head and took what he wanted.
When it was over, the boy lay spent and sleeping. His perfect features were marred by wrecked cosmetics, sweat, and semen. The marks on his body were not deep and would be gone before dawn. Texas stared at him. Reaching out, his hand slid under the collared neck and squeezed. The boy moaned, his lips parting and his head turning towards Texas.
Texas’ jaw worked as he left the whore alone in the bed. The boy had satisfied his lust but not the deep desire within him. He was tired of being on the fringe, working for scraps and pats on the head. The kid had been a good lay but would be in the next bed that Carnegie ordered him into. Texas was tired of sharing. He would have his own. And fuck those who tried to get in his way.
*~*
The syndicate was amassed at Carnegie’s estate. Food and wine, music and whore awaited to be enjoyed. Texas smirked, but first things first.
Carnegie stood at the lectern; the smoke in the room provided a haze over the gathering. “This year has been good my friends.” Texas snorted at the cheers, fists on tables, feet stomping on elegant marbled floors. “Our territory has expanded to such that the need has arisen for a second. A person that is only answerable to me. A person whose words will be my own and if questioned will answer to me.”
The noise died off to a solitary cough. Anticipation was thick. The saying with the knife made Texas roll his eyes mentally.
“It takes a cold bastard to ask what I will expect. It will take a cold bastard that thinks little of pomp and circumstance, of ceremony and treaty. It takes a cold bastard who would stab you in the back while shaking your hand. How do you fuckers think I made to where I am today?”
Silence met Carnegie’s monologue.
“You fuck with me, you die. You fuck with me second, you die. I give you Texas.”
Texas reveled in the quiet, dumbfounded shock that spread through the smoke filled room. It was all he could do to keep from giving them a one fingered salute. When he met Garret’s outraged gaze, Texas merely stared. He held the stare until Garret broke and looked away. His chest swelled. The time for submission was over; he was going to fucking rule the world.
*~*
Now
He stared at his reflection in the mirror. Immaculate suit, blood red tie, the flash of cuff links and the diamond that rested on his smallest finger, Texas shrugged uncomfortably. The fit of his suit was impeccable but it did not rest easy on his shoulders. He could still see himself has the hungry gutter rat that rose through the ranks to work at Carnegie’s side and to replace him as the head.
The rustle of bedclothes had him looking passed himself and into his bedroom. His Kitten stretched, the slither of silken sheets exposed his naked body. Texas watched as a hesitant hand reached out to his side of the bed. Touching air, the hand returned to the narrow chest and was hugged close. It was then the purple eyes opened slowly, blinking against the light. The boy sat up slowly. He froze when he realized Texas was watching him. The blonde head lowered demurely, pale hair sliding over slender shoulders.
Texas moved to set at the edge of the bed. Staring at the boy who became his all consuming obsession, the image from his past merged with present. The unnamed boy was just as beautiful as Kyle, but did not hold that inner sense of strength and peace that his Kitten exuded. That boy had been a painted whore.
He reached out and cupped the Kitten’s face and lifted. The unguarded gaze was bright with love and trust, emotions that were still uncomfortable for him. In Kyle he had gotten what he wanted, a boy to own, to possess, to control. The collar proclaimed his Kitten as his, daring anyone to try and touch would find themselves at the barrel end of his gun.
But where the whore had been painted and practiced, Kyle had so open and new, even when Texas denied the feelings the boy gave him and tried to hurt him because of them. Sure he liked to see the purple eyes lined heavily and the mouth wet and slick; sure he had used his Kitten’s body as his possession.
The silken hair rippled over his fingers as he grasped his Kitten’s nape. His boy turned into his touch, the half lidded gaze watching him closely, looking for some sign of what mood that his master was in.
“Lay back.”
The sheet swept away leaving his Kitten completely exposed. Slaves and sluts of his past would tense, a flicker of fear before relaxing into his hands. Kyle’s lean limbs were loose and pliant. He took the small hand in his own and placed it on the soft cock that had begun to harden.
“Kitten,” large purple eyes met his. There it was the peace that had been on Gray’s face, the honest trust that paid whores could not achieve, and the love that still made his skin feel tight and as unworthy as the gutter rat he had been. “Come for me.”
Even white teeth bit into swollen lips as his boy began to slide his hand up and down the slender shaft. The loving eyes never wavered as the flush of arousal spread across cheeks, neck and chest. The sweet smell tickled his nose as his Kitten’s cock leaked. Kyle turned his head so that his forehead touched Texas’ arm, thin hips began moving in small jerky thrusts. Texas took the tight ball sac in his hand and messaged them. A puff of air against his skin signaled his Kitten’s approval.
Looking down once more, Texas lifted the chin of his boy and demanded, “Look at me.”
Kyle’s breath hitched as pearly semen spilled across the tightened fist and tense abdomen. Texas leaned down and kissed the open panting mouth deeply and possessively. “My Kitten,” he growled.
He stared at his boy until his Kitten recovered. “Get dressed,” he ordered, “I have work.” Almost as an afterthought, he leaned down once again and kissed the smooth brow. “Wear the red.”
When he stood at the lift, his Kitten took his place behind him. Texas did not look at him as they stepped onto the lift. When they took their seats in the limousine, Texas pulled his boy onto his lap and kissed his naked shoulder. His Kitten was relaxed and loose, his blonde head against Texas’ shoulder.
His boy was where he was supposed to be. Texas was where he was supposed to be. He ruled his fucking world and dared any and all to fuck with him.
Rating: NC-17
Configurations : M/m
Warnings: None
Word Count: Approx. 1,900
Summary: An answer to wickhouse2005 and callie2291 on a recent meme challenge to get me to write...whatever. Wick wanted a young Texas with Carnegie and Callie wanted Texas and Kyle. Enjoy, my friends.
A/N: A standard disclaimer for all of my fiction, the work is un beta'd. I try to catch all of my mistakes but alas I am human. Any correction suggestions are welcome but please be kind. *puppy dog eyes*
Feedback: Is always welcome *grins*
Previous parts: The index page for the Texas series can be found here.
Then
Sweat and gun powder hung in the air. The Venucchis' had been squashed easily. Texas swallowed the grin as the fat Don knelt clammy and ruddy at Carnegie’s feet. He expected the electric surge of the bullet being discharged from the pistol into the waiting skull. The beauty of blood and bone and brain matter would paint the street as a testament to another territory under the syndicate's reign.
Instead, Carnegie lowered the gun that had been resting against the shivering forehead and replaced it with a kiss. Don Venucchi gave a muted cry and kissed the polish of Marcus Carnegie’s shoes. Disappointed, Texas turned to join the ranks. But the cold calculating gaze of the mob boss met his own. An almost imperceptible rise of brow stalled him. The expectation could not be ignore or he would feel the kiss of steel against his own brow.
Swallowing the acid of submission, Texas lowered his own head in respect.
*~*
Sex and musk was thick, a filmy sheath that tickled the nose and coated the taste buds. The celebration had gone on for hours. Texas chafed at his lower status, a sentry guarding the debauchery within. Smooth limbs, curved asses, and pouting lips beckoned. He had picked out a small blonde that he had hoped to coax into his secluded corner. His cock was heavy and screamed for release. The little bitch had blown him a kiss before going down on an overlord from the dockside.
He grabbed a glass of champagne from a waiter that sailed by him. His mouth puckered at the unfamiliar taste. Scanning his perimeter, he looked back at the party raging. Carnegie sat like a king on his throne. But instead of fucking the slender young man with gray eyes, the sight made him frown. The slave was naked and collared, that was not unusual. It was the complete look of peace on the elfish features as he pressed into Carnegie’s touch.
Looking back at the little bitch who was riding the fat overlord’s cock, Texas frowned. What was it like to want to be the weak one? A slave to the hungers of the syndicate, the protected and the coddled? He had enough of being weak as a child and his cowing down to the syndicate boss only went so far. The man would respect him because he was no one’s bitch.
From the peaceful slave to the cock riding whore, Texas wondered.
*~*
He paced the office. The weight of his gun was a comfort because he hated the unknown. It was his intel that brought the Skye Group down. The bastards thought they could cheat Carnegie? It made his blood boil that his overlord, Garrett, would get the reward. Texas choked down a snarl and continued to pace.
What the fuck was going on? Carnegie had two muscle bound brutes deliver him here and kept watch at the door. His neck prickled. Turning with his hand on his gun, Marcus Carnegie watched him with a smirk.
“You are making quite the name for yourself, boy.”
Texas’ lips peeled back and kept his hand where it was. Carnegie’s smirk turned into a broad grin.
“You are being rewarded, I am told you have penchant for blondes?” Carnegie moved aside to allow a cloaked and hooded body into the office. “Through there is a bedroom. But remember it belongs to me, damage it…” The threat hung heavy in the air.
Texas stood alone with the hidden figure before him. Uncomfortable with ceremony, he reached out and jerked the cowl aside.
It was a boy. His face delicate and painted, soft blonde hair rested against narrow shoulders, a nondescript leather collar was cinched about a slender throat. Clear blue eyes watched his every move, part fear and part curiosity.
Pushing the cloak aside, the boy was displayed for his eyes. Naked and nearly hairless, bits of jewelry flashing in the dim light, the boy’s cock hung soft between narrow thighs.
“Do you have a name?”
The boy blinked and tilted his head to the side, the fear changed to amusement. As if the little slave boy knew more than he. Texas wanted to snarl, to put the brat in his place. Wet lips parted, the boy replied, “Whatever you want it to be, sir.”
Dark needs overrode better judgments. Texas wanted to possess, to control, to own. He lifted the boy bodily and kicked the door open to the hidden bedroom. The beauty of the slave was too perfect, the movements, the slide of skin too practiced. His hands became brutal, wringing out gasps of surprised pain and unwillingly pleasure. Texas held the boy’s hands above his thrashing head and took what he wanted.
When it was over, the boy lay spent and sleeping. His perfect features were marred by wrecked cosmetics, sweat, and semen. The marks on his body were not deep and would be gone before dawn. Texas stared at him. Reaching out, his hand slid under the collared neck and squeezed. The boy moaned, his lips parting and his head turning towards Texas.
Texas’ jaw worked as he left the whore alone in the bed. The boy had satisfied his lust but not the deep desire within him. He was tired of being on the fringe, working for scraps and pats on the head. The kid had been a good lay but would be in the next bed that Carnegie ordered him into. Texas was tired of sharing. He would have his own. And fuck those who tried to get in his way.
*~*
The syndicate was amassed at Carnegie’s estate. Food and wine, music and whore awaited to be enjoyed. Texas smirked, but first things first.
Carnegie stood at the lectern; the smoke in the room provided a haze over the gathering. “This year has been good my friends.” Texas snorted at the cheers, fists on tables, feet stomping on elegant marbled floors. “Our territory has expanded to such that the need has arisen for a second. A person that is only answerable to me. A person whose words will be my own and if questioned will answer to me.”
The noise died off to a solitary cough. Anticipation was thick. The saying with the knife made Texas roll his eyes mentally.
“It takes a cold bastard to ask what I will expect. It will take a cold bastard that thinks little of pomp and circumstance, of ceremony and treaty. It takes a cold bastard who would stab you in the back while shaking your hand. How do you fuckers think I made to where I am today?”
Silence met Carnegie’s monologue.
“You fuck with me, you die. You fuck with me second, you die. I give you Texas.”
Texas reveled in the quiet, dumbfounded shock that spread through the smoke filled room. It was all he could do to keep from giving them a one fingered salute. When he met Garret’s outraged gaze, Texas merely stared. He held the stare until Garret broke and looked away. His chest swelled. The time for submission was over; he was going to fucking rule the world.
*~*
Now
He stared at his reflection in the mirror. Immaculate suit, blood red tie, the flash of cuff links and the diamond that rested on his smallest finger, Texas shrugged uncomfortably. The fit of his suit was impeccable but it did not rest easy on his shoulders. He could still see himself has the hungry gutter rat that rose through the ranks to work at Carnegie’s side and to replace him as the head.
The rustle of bedclothes had him looking passed himself and into his bedroom. His Kitten stretched, the slither of silken sheets exposed his naked body. Texas watched as a hesitant hand reached out to his side of the bed. Touching air, the hand returned to the narrow chest and was hugged close. It was then the purple eyes opened slowly, blinking against the light. The boy sat up slowly. He froze when he realized Texas was watching him. The blonde head lowered demurely, pale hair sliding over slender shoulders.
Texas moved to set at the edge of the bed. Staring at the boy who became his all consuming obsession, the image from his past merged with present. The unnamed boy was just as beautiful as Kyle, but did not hold that inner sense of strength and peace that his Kitten exuded. That boy had been a painted whore.
He reached out and cupped the Kitten’s face and lifted. The unguarded gaze was bright with love and trust, emotions that were still uncomfortable for him. In Kyle he had gotten what he wanted, a boy to own, to possess, to control. The collar proclaimed his Kitten as his, daring anyone to try and touch would find themselves at the barrel end of his gun.
But where the whore had been painted and practiced, Kyle had so open and new, even when Texas denied the feelings the boy gave him and tried to hurt him because of them. Sure he liked to see the purple eyes lined heavily and the mouth wet and slick; sure he had used his Kitten’s body as his possession.
The silken hair rippled over his fingers as he grasped his Kitten’s nape. His boy turned into his touch, the half lidded gaze watching him closely, looking for some sign of what mood that his master was in.
“Lay back.”
The sheet swept away leaving his Kitten completely exposed. Slaves and sluts of his past would tense, a flicker of fear before relaxing into his hands. Kyle’s lean limbs were loose and pliant. He took the small hand in his own and placed it on the soft cock that had begun to harden.
“Kitten,” large purple eyes met his. There it was the peace that had been on Gray’s face, the honest trust that paid whores could not achieve, and the love that still made his skin feel tight and as unworthy as the gutter rat he had been. “Come for me.”
Even white teeth bit into swollen lips as his boy began to slide his hand up and down the slender shaft. The loving eyes never wavered as the flush of arousal spread across cheeks, neck and chest. The sweet smell tickled his nose as his Kitten’s cock leaked. Kyle turned his head so that his forehead touched Texas’ arm, thin hips began moving in small jerky thrusts. Texas took the tight ball sac in his hand and messaged them. A puff of air against his skin signaled his Kitten’s approval.
Looking down once more, Texas lifted the chin of his boy and demanded, “Look at me.”
Kyle’s breath hitched as pearly semen spilled across the tightened fist and tense abdomen. Texas leaned down and kissed the open panting mouth deeply and possessively. “My Kitten,” he growled.
He stared at his boy until his Kitten recovered. “Get dressed,” he ordered, “I have work.” Almost as an afterthought, he leaned down once again and kissed the smooth brow. “Wear the red.”
When he stood at the lift, his Kitten took his place behind him. Texas did not look at him as they stepped onto the lift. When they took their seats in the limousine, Texas pulled his boy onto his lap and kissed his naked shoulder. His Kitten was relaxed and loose, his blonde head against Texas’ shoulder.
His boy was where he was supposed to be. Texas was where he was supposed to be. He ruled his fucking world and dared any and all to fuck with him.