I watched Mall Cop yesterday, and this kinda plagued me. I was wondering about Veck's back story... or I guess I'm just a little horny. Anyhow, flame all you want, I'll just stay over here and roast my fucking marshmallows. mm.
WARNINGS: Dub-con, prostitution, some self-pity and stuff. Oh. And man on man sex, semi-graphic I suppose.
He wasn't rich.
Obscene sounds bounced off the ripped-up motel walls as bony hands gripped the sheets tighter. The man let out a forced, faked moan, jutting his hips back to meet the other's thrusts. He could feel himself trembling, dark murky eyes sharp and jaw clenched. It burned, it hurt, yet he continued wildly.
He was willing to do this; he was willing to do something hard to make the rest of his miserable life easy.
Fuck. It hurt.
"That's it, slut, rock your hips," was the sultry sneer, warm cigarette-stinking breathe on his neck. He could feel the man's fucking hippie-like beard tickling his skin, and he could tell that those thin lips were stretched into an irritating smile.
It didn't matter how much he excelled at computers: he wasn't physically strong so he was trash. Solid, untouchable rules of the streets. He knew of the stares, and he knew that he would do anything in his powers to live despite them. He just wanted to live, dammit! He wanted money, he wanted luxury, he wanted to pull himself from this hellhole! If his plan worked, then he wouldn't have to spend another day in his life selling himself to dirty old farts.
He felt teeth on his shoulders and instantly, he froze in panic, his inner walls clenching in a way that caused a shot of pain to rip through him. "No. No marks," he barked out, voice shaking pathetically, but that mouth gave a final lick and moved away.
If he managed to do it, to steal all that money, no one could touch him again. No one would oppose him!
The computer whiz let out a deafening scream as calloused hands twisted his nipples, twitching in the iron grasp of tattooed arms. "Scream for me, you little whore. How does it feel to have your little man-cunt ripped open?" leered the annoying voice, and he shuddered. His entrance was slick and warm, even from the lack of preparation, and he knew where the coppery tang in the air was coming from.
He let out another yell as he felt his manhood grasped, much too hard to be pleasurable. A stream of cum exploded within him, clawing at his internal wounds viciously but not in a way he wasn't used to. It happened that some of his clients were a little rough, a little bruising.
But no more.
He felt himself being pumped rapidly to a non-climatic orgasm, one that left a bitter taste in his mouth and a stab in his already shredded pride. A flaccid cock slide from him, and he could hear the rough breathing. Ignoring the agony of standing up, the weakness in his lower limbs, the prostitute dressed himself quickly and professionally.
"I've keep my end of the deal. Now keep yours."
There was a slight surprise in the idiot's eyes, but he stood up with a smirk. Leaning in, he grabbed his little slut's chin and plunged in his tongue, ravaging the inside of an already aching mouth. "Don't worry, Veck, we'll fuck up any security guard that gets in our way. It's going to be fucking easy."
A certain level of fear shone in Veck's eyes, worry, and then was over-washed with a cruel coldness. "You better, Rudolph."
Tearing himself away from the repulsive embrace, the short-haired man went to plan his overtake of the mall.
He wasn't going to be used ever again. He was going to live now, everything would be okay. Rudolph and his gang, one of the most renowned for their power and success rates, were on his side. He couldn't lose, no matter how much the cops would try.
How he was so wrong.