Author's Note: This is the sequel to "What Rock 'n Roll Looks Like"! Thanks for the support on that three-shot fic! I had so much fun writing as Rodrick that I had to write a sequel. It's still developing, but, hey, can't hurt to post.
The unedited M version didn't seem to get a lot of feedback (thanks to Edrenalin for her review though! love ya!), so I'll keep this fic T rated unless you all say otherwise. So, it'll be suggestive, but not too graphic.
Hope you enjoy "Rodrick's Revenge!"
P.S.: Did anyone see the deleted short clip of "Rodrick Rules" on Nick this past weekend? Holy shit, I forgot how much I want to jump Rodrick's bones! XD
~Much love
Disclaimer: I do not own DOAWK characters, except for Odette and Dean Channing. I do not own the lyrics to "Wicked Game" by HIM.
/Rodrick's Revenge\
What a wicked game to play
To make me feel this way
What a wicked thing to do
To let me dream of you
-Wicked Game by HIM
Chapter 1:: What a Wicked Game
Was it possible?
No.
Could it truly be? Someone had actually disgraced he?
Blasphemous.
No young lady had been able to bring him to his very knees, famished for her skin and her sex. Was it not supposed to be the other way around? Well, in Rodrick Heffley's deranged mind, it was.
The tall, slim young man lay in bed on his back, eyes staring in a trance at the attic ceiling. Truth be told, he had received very little mutual flirtations. Even then, no young lady had really captured his fancy so strongly to the point where he was a pitiful puppet. No, posing as Pinocchio was not something he aspired to be, exactly. And yet, the sensational high he experienced when under her stare…he was ready to please and serve.
He growled through gritted teeth, turning over on his side. He still had been erect from the night's escapade. Nursing a painful erection was not easy, oh no. It was not a switch to be turned on and off by will so simply. He cursed Odette's name under his breath.
Not much he could do at the moment. Might as well try and sleep until the sun decides to rise once more with its blinding grace. Meanwhile, his plan to seek out revenge will continue.
"Oh, don't you worry…I will," he mumbled to himself in deep tones.
*Next Scene*
Giggles. Clicking of buttons. Simulated growls and screams. A cheer and a jeer.
Rowley was over for the day, and that meant double the torture.
Rodrick cracked open an eye, the sounds of the "twerp" and the "baby hippo" playing video games serving as the opening nuisance of the day. A twitch of his lips preceded the urge to scream.
"Must…Kill.." he mumbled in monotones.
Dismissing the bedsheets like menial royal servants, the young man climbed out of bed, snatching a discarded pair of pants to pull on his nude body. The unwashed denim clung loosely to his hips, hugging the slim frame in a relaxed fashion. Stomping out of the attic, the vexed teen kicked open the door, and made his way to Greg's bedroom where he and Rowley resided.
Cue the startled faces of the young boys. Two pairs of eyes met the sight of Rodrick, his eyes rimmed with red, his lips downturned in a scowl, and a look of death implanted upon his face.
"We didn't do anything! I swear!" Greg cried out. "I haven't been in your room since forever!"
"Yeah, we're just playing video games," joined Rowley, a nervous smile forming. "Um…You can play if you want. Wanna be Fluffy the Dragon?"
Growl.
"No, I don't want to be Fluffy the Dragon. Keep the giggles down, girls. Or I'll come back with blunt objects."
"Fine, whatever. Jeez, what's your problem?" asked his little brother, his eyebrow cocked upward.
"I didn't sleep," Rodrick simply answered, rubbing his sore eyes.
"Doesn't mean you can take it out on me, ya know. We'll keep it down if you cool it."
Surprisingly, Greg had developed a backbone over the past summer. He was able to negotiate with a firm, but authoritative, fist. Rodrick nodded, secretly impressed. Of course, he'd never say that. He had to withhold a reputation, after all.
"You got it," he acceded with a yawn lacing the words.
Stumbling away from the open doorway, the young man returned to his attic bedroom. Rowley looked to Greg, scratching his auburn head of hair.
"Sometimes I think he's possessed."
"Ya think?" said Greg sarcastically.
"Yeah. My mom gets like that too. She calls it, 'that time of the month.' I don't know what that is, but Rodrick seems to act like it a lot."
*Next Scene*
The weekend had been nothing special. Lazing around, munching on sugar spiked snacks, marathon of "The Walking Dead." Ahh, the effects of the spurting blood, and silky intestines taking flight in the cannibals' feast…'Perfect! Haha!' Rodrick would muse with glee. 'Oh shit…Did that red neck just saw off his own..? Awesome!'
He wasn't too idle, mind you. By Sunday night, just after an early dinner of tender pork roast, the young man sat in his room, his hands behind his head as he reclined in a plush chair. A small television set had been on, the last episode of the season playing. His mind drifted off in a haze, an imagined porcelain face piquing his sensual self.
Her scarlet painted mouth agape, breath short and shallow, calling out his name again..and again…A wicked feline grin graced his full lips, his eyes narrowing with mischief.
"You'll see, Oddy. You'll see that two can play this game.
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