A/N: I understand this is a bit rubbish, I literally wrote it in about three mintues. I've always had a thing for OC and I'm kind of planning to write a full Luciano/OC story, if anyone is interested message me. Thanks for taking the time to read my short little drabble. It does have some mature themes but overall it isn't too risque.
Title: A Story
Pairing: Luciano/OC
Rating: M
Sypnopsis: Luciano and a random dancer he picked up in Atlantic City. Short drabble. Mature themes.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Boardwalk Empire. I do however, claim my own character and this short plot bunny.
His warm lips left a trail of soft kisses down the nape of her neck, and ended at the womanly curve of her back. She sat perched on the edge of a small hotel bed, silent and breathless, an off-white sheet covering her naked front and her wide eyes scouring the dingy hotel room he insisted on bringing her back to. He didn't care about this dame, she was just a random dancer he picked up in Atlantic City when he was in the mood. She had blue eyes and dirty blonde hair. He hoped she'd be even dirtier between the sheets.
He lulled her into his bed with fake promises and a string of compliments he used on every broad; he considered himself an expert on telling people what they wanted to be told. You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. Tomorrow he would be leaving for New York and they'd never meet again. It was a sad story he often re-lived, just in a different setting.
He traced light circles on her bare skin and whispered things he said a million times to a million different girls. She held on to his every word and believed him when he said he'd show her his New York. He tugged at the sheet that covered her, exposing her quivering breasts to his eager fingers. She leaned back into him and let him devour her, he whispered things he knew she'd want to hear but were not necessarliy true. She wanted him to tell her about New York. What was Broadway like? Could she make it as an actress? Of course she could, he told her over and over, you're going to be a star.
She gave into him, of course she did. They always did. He looked at her with tenderness and care, he made her feel like she was the most important girl in the world; but she didn't know how many other dames he made feel like that. His touch was soft, yet he was firm and rough, sending her beyond the walls of pleasure. It was quick and was over as soon as it started. You were great, sweetheart. Twice in a row.
He smoked a cigarette as she laid beside him, staring at the peeling celling above them. If he was becoming annoyed by her frequent questions of New York, he didn't show it. He fell asleep first, his head facing away from hers. She touched his neck lightly and dreamed about her new life being a Broadway star in New York.
When she awoke the bed was empty. He had done the deed and fled and left her alone, but he never actually cared about the dame so why should he be bothered? It was a sad story he often re-lived, always in a different setting.
Thanks for reading! Reviews wouldn't go amiss!