I am probably going to post the next story arc - the one where Gwen comes in - as a separate story. It was always it's own self-contained work, I just posted it under the larger BS umbrella. I thought of it as akin to three movies in a series being released on the same DVD. Maybe that was the wrong choice. So soon look for The BS Life of Gwen.
Also, since I'm here, Imma address Liby and Lacy one final time. The secret agent stuff was stupid, okay? However, given that Lulu is a literal mutant in the sin kids headcanon, I can't say that the Spy Kids stuff is all that outlandish. Oh, outlandish, sure, but this is a fan fic based on OC characters made for a cartoon series - a fan made canon where Lincoln literally has sex with his daughters and sisters and lives in a giant harem. It's hard to come to something like this 100 percent sober, throw in a mutant and I figured Liby and Lacy would be over the top, but in a fun, campy way.
I was wrong. I had fun with it but a lot of people thought it was gay, but I'm used to that. As for Liby and Lacy falling in love, my mindset was this: They just went through a hugely traumatic event together, their adrenaline was pumping, they were close to death, they bonded in a special way - perfect way to fall in love with someone and realize that you weren't actually in love with the person you thought you were in love with before.
Lyrics to The Jack by AC/DC (1975)
Lemy dragged himself through the front door and staggered over to the couch, dropping onto it with a moan. His entire body was sore and hot, his back arched, his muscles quivered, and his eyes throbbed with exhaustion. Damn. Running a lemonade stand is harder than it looks.
Lizy and Leia came in next, Lizy closing the door. Leia held the lockbox protectively under one arm; there was just over one hundred dollars inside...far less than she was hoping for. Guess we'll have to do this again tomorrow, she said, I need to recoup my investment.
Lemy glanced at her, and she licked her bottom lip obscenely. "Lizy?" she asked without breaking eye contact.
"Yeah?" Lizy asked.
Leia shoved the lockbox into her hands. "Take this upstairs. I need to talk to Lemy."
Lemy's heart was a piece of steak and Leia's words were a fucking mallet: He jerked a little when she spoke, and his stomach clutched like it was being squeezed in a fist. Lizy looked between the box and the older girl, her brow furrowed...then she shrugged and went upstairs.
When she was gone, Leia waggled her eyebrows and came forward, her steps slow and her hips swishing hypnotically from side to side. Lemy' throat constricted and he sat up straighter. Holy shit, holy sht, holy shit…
She planted one knee onto the couch cushion next to him and leaned forward, her hand going to the side of his face. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. She shifted into his lap, he knees caging his legs; his bulge poked her bare pussy and she brushed her teeth across her lower lip. She took his face in both hands and ran her fingers through his hair, a wicked light dancing in her eyes. Lemy's heart exploded against his ribs with nuclear force and his dick felt like one of those fucking rods, you know, glowing orange with heat. His hands went clumsily to her hips, and she rocked slowly forward, her body stroking against his erection and making him shudder.
Hey eyes were big, filled with light, and he could feel her gaze touching his soul. He brushed his hands up her flanks, and she hummed.
"You were a good boy today," she said and tilted her head. Their noses skimmed and their lips hovered achingly close. Lemy swallowed. "You know what that means?"
Fire burned in his body, the smoke clogging his brain. "W-What?"
She stroked his hair gently, lovingly and ghosted her lips over his. "You get your lemon." She kissed him deeply, and he kissed her back, his hands slipping under her shirt on their own accord. Her flesh was warmer and softer than her ever could have imagined, and she trembled under his touch. When his hands reached the swell of her tiny breasts, she gasped into his mouth. Their heads tilted left and right as the kiss became needier, more urgent. Her heart throbbed in his hand, her breasts quaking with each beat. Her nipples prodded his palms, and by instinct he began to rub them with his thumbs.
Her fingernails trailed down his face, and his flesh tightened like a drum. Over his chest, down his stomach, sending crackles of electricity racing through him He pushed the back of her skirt up and gripped her bare butt in both hands; she hooked her fingers into his waistband and tugged. Let me in. She pulled away and fumbled at his belt with shaking fingers. He kissed her cheek, her neck, her shoulder, his nails digging deeply into her butt. He was lost to passion, mindless in his pursuit of Leia. She wasn't too far behind; she got the belt undone and gave up on the button in favor of grabbing his through his pants and squeezing. His breath caught. "I want this," she whispered into his ear, her hot breath making the back of his neck prick. "Inside me."
"I want it inside you," he croaked and kissed her earlobe, "so bad."
"How bad?" she asked.
"So bad it hurts." He kissed her throat, her jawline, her ear again, her hair tickling his nose like the softest silk. She squeezed him again and giggled when his hips spasmed forward.
"Hmmm," she said thoughtfully, her eyes rolling cutely to the side, "I don't know. Tell me why you want it."
Lemy's head swam and his body smoldered. Thinking wasn't exactly the easiest thing to do in such a state, so he said the first thing that came to mind, his words leaving him in a shameless torrent. "You're beautiful; you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, Leia, and you make me so hard I feel like I'm gonna fucking rip."
She beamed down at him. "Yeah?"
His head flopped up and down.
She hummed. "What makes me beautiful?"
"Your eyes," he said, "they're the clearest blue and looking into them makes me feel shaky and weak. Your hair, your lips, your everything. You're perfection."
She was smiling widely now. She bent forward and kissed the corner of his mouth. "Say my name," she whispered.
"Leia," he said.
"Okay," she said, "you're allowed to fuck me now."
Lemy shot his hand down and fumbled with his jeans just as she had. He got the button, then yanked down the zipper. He started to take himself out, but Leia brushed his hands away and did it for him, her thin fingers wrapping around his pulsing length; he gasped and threw his head back. Holy fuck, it felt so much better when someone else touched it.
She sat back and regarded him with an open mouthed smile. "How does that feel, Lemy Loud?"
His words burst forth in a wheezing rush. "So good. So fucking good."
"Am I your favorite sister now?"
He nodded.
"Am I your little princess?" Her fingers kneaded him, spreading his leaking arousal like honey on a comb.
"God yes," he said.
She held him firmly and lifted up, then brought herself down; when he felt his tip pressing against the slick opening of her secret garden, he moaned deeply. "Just one downward motion, Lemy Loud," she teased and leaned over, her nose brushing his. "That's all." Her voice was thick and slow with passion. "Then we're having sex."
"Please do it, Leia," he begged, "I want you so bad." Her wet heat pooled in his lap and caressed his dick. Her fingers massaged him, her eyes enchanted him. She bit her bottom lip, then began to settle; his head parted her lips and pushed a fraction of an inch in. The feeling was indescribable, dizzying.
Her face was blood red now and her eyes were misty. "Say my name."
"Leia," he panted, "Leia, Leia, Leia."
She ran her fingers through his hair...then sank onto him, her body sheathing his dick. Her walls rippled around him like wet satin, and he moaned loudly. She lifted up, then brought herself down again, her muscles clamping tightly around him. They were both breathing heavily now, both trembling as their hips moved in sinful unison. She tugged his hair and pressed her lips to his forehead; his hands crept over her back, rubbing, touching, exploring..and relishing.
Intense sensation coursed through Lemy's body; he'd never had 50,000 volts shot into him, but he imagined it couldn't be much different from this. His eyes were closed, but he opened them now: Leia's face filled his world; flushed with passion, her eyes narrowed and murky, her bangs plastered to her sweaty forehead...she had never been more beautiful than she was in that moment, and he leaned into kiss her. She kissed him back, her body melting into his and her arms wrapping themselves around his neck. She rocked harder and faster as their tongues swirled freverantly around one another, tasting and investigating every crease and crevice of each other's mouths.
Lemy was drunk on her; his body was weak, quivery, and his mind was gone, all thought given over to primal feeling.
Leia pulled back and pressed her forehead against his; her breath exploded against his lips. She bounced faster; his head scraped along her walls and pounded against her cervix, each thrust tearing breathless grunts from her throat. "T-Touch my t-tits," she spluttered. Lemy's hands slipped under her shirt and danced across her fevered skin; her cupped each of her breasts and squeezed. She hitched and rocked forward s-l-o-w-l-y, her head bowing and her hair obscuring her face.. "Oh God, oh God, oh God, Lemy...Lemy..."
"Leia," he moaned, "Leia."
"I love it when you say my name."
"My princess."
"Your queen."
She tilted her head forward and they kissed again. Lemy circled his arms around her waist and held her close. He could feel his end approaching fast, and he tried to hold it back, but it surged forward and all he could do was get out of the way. "I-I'm cumming," he panted.
"Do it," Leia hissed through her teeth.
He hugged her close and gave completely into his climax: It rushed up and exploded from him with such force that he literally cried out. Leia let out a long moan/pant/sigh as it filled her passage and spurted deep into her stomach. Her walls closed around him and she trembled in her own orgasm, a series of high pitched 'Uh's' trembling from her lips. Lemy held her tightly as his dick gave one final spurt and fell silent. Their mingled passion coursed down his shaft and pooled in his lap. Leia fell limp in his arms, her face buried in the crook of his neck and her body shivered as aftershocks tore through her.
Lemy sat there dazed and confused like this was Texas in 1976; his chest expanded and contracted as he took in big lunguls of air. His mind was slowly clearing, his body coming down from its euphoric high.
HOLY SHIT I JUST HAD SEX!
He blinked at the realization. He jerked his head to Leia, as if to confirm she was still there and not a figment of his imagination. Her back rose and fell and the hot feeling of their love, now trickling down his balls and onto the couch (that feels weird) told him that, brah, this wasn't a dream.
And I didn't nut too soon. I think. Whew. Thank God, if I did she probably would have mocked me and I would have wound up shooting myself. Siri, can you load a .20 gauge with transistor tubes?
Leia scrunched her shoulders and shuddered; she hummed and kissed his neck.
"H-How was it?" he asked.
"Ummm, trash," she said and kissed his neck again, her wet lips lingering on his fevered flesh. "You suck, Lemy Loud."
Her words pierced his heart like a blade. Held her at arm's length and searched her face for signs of deception. She was dead weight, her cheeks deep pink, her eyes foggy, and her mouth slack, a ribbon of drool trickling down her chin. She smiled weakly. "Worst sex ever."
Okay, he was new to this...but something told him she was lying.
"Kiss me," she said and leaned into him. I thought I sucked?
Whether he did or not, he kissed her; she took his face in her hands and started to grind him again. His rapidly deflating dick came roaring back to life, and her walls swelled against him as her own arousal returned.
He turned himself over to passion once more, giving his body away and following nature's course; he laid her down on the couch without breaking the kiss and thrusted; she gasped into his mouth and hooked her legs over his hips, her socked heels digging into his butt.
She said you suck, dude, a voice spoke from the mist in his brain, show her you don't.
Propping himself up on one arm, he slammed into her, and she uttered a short, sharp cry, her body jerking and the top of her head hitting the armrest. He pulled back and shot forward again, his head poking the opening to her womb and making her squeal. "Yes! Faster!"
Alright. He bowed his head and set a steady, uptempo pace. Leia drew him in with every thrust, her head thrown back to expose her gentle throat and her eyes closed. Lemy kissed her neck as he rutted into her; she gasped and rocked her hips against his, taking his dick to her limit and squeezing it hard with her throbbing walls.
Suddenly, her sinful channel bore down on him and she cried out. He thrusted again, and his dick swelled painfully in her tight confines...then it released, sending a tidal wave of hot sperm into her. She seized up like an epileptic thrashing on the floor, then gave a body wide convulsion: Her brow knitted, her mouth fell open, and her features twisted in the most beautiful agony he had ever seen. He kissed the tip of her chin, threaded his fingers through her hair, and thrusted again and again even though he was spent and his dick was beginning to go limp: He didn't want this moment to end...her beneath him, her legs wrapped around and her hazy eyes staring up at him, their bodies entwined and quivering with exhaustion. She tilted her head down, and the look of slurry, lovedrunk satisfaction on her face made him grin.
"T-That was even worse t-than the f-first time," she murmured.
A laugh bubbled up from Lemy's throat. He stared down at her and lovingly brushed a long strand of blonde hair out of her sweaty face. "You wanna try again?"
Slowly, she shook her head. "Y-You'll just f-fuck it up again." She smirked, a muted twinkle glinting in her eye. "Now get off me. I need a shower."
Reluctantly, he pulled out, and a flood of their mixture gushed out of her and onto the couch. She got up on shaky knees and nearly fell; her arms shot and she balanced herself like a tightrope walker on a high wire. "You okay?" he asked and lifted a brow.
"I'm fine," she said sleepily, "except I'm leaking like crazy."
She went to the foot of the stairs, her knees bowed and her legs like rubber. When she was gone, Lemy sat where was, a creeping grin spreading across his face.
Then he went to get up and collapsed because his knees, too, were weak.
Ow, goddamn.
Liby followed a maze of slime slathered alleys heaped with refuse to a chain link fence. She moved quickly, at a crouch, darting from one concealment to another: A green Dumpster, a stack of empty boxes, a phalanx of trash cans. Her heart raced but she was calm, confident.
The fence ran along a fifty foot drop. Weeds grew from cracks in the concrete. Ahead was a factory with big, segmented windows. Many of the panes were busted, but some weren't...the smile of a veteran pugilist. The van was parked in the open. Liby dropped to her knees next to a metal trash can and pressed her face to the warm metal fence, her eyes scanning for danger but seeing none. These guys were sloppy.
She unshouldered her bag and rummaged through it, taking out a pair of binoculars. Warm wind played in her hair as she lifted them to her eyes and swept the front of the building. She didn't see anyone.
If she had to guess, she'd say the people who took Lacy (there had to be at least two, one behind the wheel and one in the back) were pedos. And not very bright pedos at that. She shoved the glasses back into the bag and zipped it up. She started to stand, but something cold and hard poked her in the back of the head. "Drop the gun, bitch."
Liby's heart squeezed. Damn it.
She had two choices now: Fight back and wind up dead or lay the gun down and fight back later. Slowly, she sat the Ruger on the ground next to her, and the goon kicked it away. "Put your hands behind your back."
Her lips were pursed in annoyance as she obeyed. Well...this was going to be a mild inconvenience.
He tied her wrists with rope, then dragged her to her feet. "March," he said and stuck the gun into the small of her back. "To the left."
She walked calmly and cooly along the drop. When they reached a set of steps, she went down without being told to. At the bottom, the goon spoke as if into a radio. "Got her."
So, it was a set up.
And she walked right into it. Good one, Lib; good one.
"Okay," a crackling voice came back, "bring her in."
Ahead, a metal roll top door opened and a man clad in cargo pants and an olive green T-shirt appeared. He wore a black bandana around his forehead and fingerless black gloves. He held a Heckler & Koch HK416 in his hands; it hung from a strap around one shoulder. It was black with a laser scope, vertical foregrip, and an extended magazine, a second magazine taped to the first. When he was done with one clip, all he had to do was pull it out, flip it around, and jam it back in. He saw them and gestured with his hand.
The goon shoved her through the door. Inside was a wide open space. Sunlight fell through broken windows, dust dancing in shafts of brilliance. A catwalk ringed the top of the room and off to her left a set of stairs lead to a raised platform. Typical warehouse set up; she'd seen a million of these.
"Put her with the other," Finger Gloves said. There were other men standing around and looking stony. Each of them held an assault rifle and wore a handgun on their hips. Some of them were white, some black, and others Hispanic; a diverse rainbow of lowlife scum.
Without a word, the goon lead her through a door and down a flight of stone steps that opened onto a long, narrow hall. At the end, a guy stood in front of a closed door with an AK-47 in his hands. His body was ramrod straight and his chin jutted out; if he wasn't guarding something, Liby was the queen of England.
"Open her up," the goon barked, and the guard opened the door. When Liby saw Lacy tied to a chair, her heart staggered, but she quickly recovered. This was no time to go to pieces. If she did, they weren't making it out of here alive.
Lacy's head was bowed, but when the goon brought Liby in, she looked up; her face was pale and drawn, her hollow cheeks stained with tears. She didn't look as though she had been harmed, though, for which Liby was endlessly thankful.
The goon made Liby sit in a chair next to her sister and slashed her bonds with a knife, then retired them behind the back of the chair: Her arm muscles stung and she winced at the pain.
Done, he came around front, and Liby saw him for the first time: He was big with a crooked nose, beady eyes, and a pale, jagged scar running along the right side of his face. He was dressed in black jeans and a black T-shirt; he wore a black tactical vest and a black watch cap. He held a chrome .357. His lips peeled back from his rotten teeth in a leer. "We got you now, bitch."
Liby glared at him.
"You're in for it."
He bent forward and stroked her cheek with the barrel of the gun. Lacy was crying softly now. "Hope you like breathing river water, cuz that's what you're gonna do." He drew back, shoved the gun into a holster on hip, and darted his gaze between the two girls. "Hopefully we get to have fun with you first."
With that, he turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Liby tested her bonds. They were tighter than a ten-year-old virgin.
Lacy wept openly, her tiny body shivering in fear. Liby turned to her. "Lace, I need you to be strong, okay? I'm gonna get us out of here."
"Who are these people?" Lacy hitched.
Liby considered for a moment. "I don't know. They could be anyone. That's not important. We're going to make a break."
Lacy was sobbing again, her head hung and shaking back and forth. "We're gonna die," she moaned.
"No we're not," Liby said firmly, "I've been in worse jams before and I came out fine. It won't be easy, though, especially if you're gonna go to pieces."
Lacy sniffed. Her face, in profile, was full of terror, and Liby's heart broke. She softened her tone. "Look, we're gonna be fine, I just need you to be brave for me, okay?"
For a long moment Lacy made no reply.
"Can you do that?"
Lacy nodded.
"Good. I -"
Before she could finish that thought, the door opened and a man came in. He was flanked on either side by a rifle toting bodyguard. When Liby saw who it was, her eyes narrowed. He was tall and well-built, dressed in gray slacks and a gray sports coat over a white shirt open at the throat sans tie. A gold chain hung around his neck and rings adorned his fingers. His neatly styled black hair was shot through with streaks of gray, as was his trimmed beard. His complexion was like warm caramel and his brown eyes sparkled with glee; his lips were turned up in a smug smile.
"Montoya," Liby snarled.
He stopped less than a foot away and put his hands on his hips. "Ms. Loud," he said, his voice smooth and containing barely a ghost of an accent, "we meet again."
Ricardo Montoya was the biggest drug kingpin in the country - he moved more cocaine into the US than anyone, and was more brutal than La Familia Michoacana and the infamous MS-13 combined. Those who crossed him wound up in pieces after weeks of inhuman torture, and those who got in his way got the old Brooklyn Surprise - they went to start their cars and triggered a bomb instead.
His influence extended to Europe and South America, especially his native Costa Rica, where more officials, police chiefs, and politicians answered to him than to the president. He lived in a lavish hilltop villa overlooking the Pacific Ocean where he entertained the rich, famous, and powerful on a regular basis. In America, he was el rey, in Costa Rica he was dios.
Lacy looked from Montoya to her sister, her eyes wide with fright.
"I told you this wasn't over," Montoya said and flashed a wide, shark-like smile.
The last time Liby saw Montoya, he was being hustled to a waiting chopper by a team of guards as a warehouse he owned in Detroit burned. She killed fifty of his men that day and nearly got him too. This isn't over! He cried as the copter lifted off. No, it wasn't.
"I've been expecting you, Montoya," Liby said, "and I'm glad you're here. I thought I was going to have to come after you."
Montoya threw his head back and laughed richly. His bodyguards snickered. "You are funny, Liby Loud. You are also stupid." He turned and called for someone to enter, and a man walked in, dressed in jeans and a leather jacket. He wore a stocking cap. Montoya gestured for him to take it off, and he did. Liby was not surprised to see "Father O'Leary."
"It was a trap," Montoya said and turned back to Liby. "And you stepped right into it." He shook his head slowly and clucked his tongue "I am disappointed in you. I believed that you were a worthy opponent, but you revealed yourself to be a naive little girl. I will almost feel bad about having you killed." He loomed over her, his eyes burning. "Almost."
Liby's face flushed with rage.
He tapped the metal band over her headgear. "Soon, Liby Loud...soon."
He turned and gestured for his guards to follow. When they were gone, Liby began to flex her wrists against the rope. Next to her, Lacy shook like a small dog before the boot of a cruel master. "Don't worry, Lace, I'll have us out of here in a jiff. Look."
Lacy twisted her head around, and her eyes widened: A thin black hairpin was in Liby's fingers; she worried the fibers of the rope. "Where'd you get that?" she asked, her voice suddenly alive with wonder.
"A good gumshoe is always prepared," Liby said cryptically.
"Well...what are we going to do even if we get out? They have guns."
Liby laughed genuinely. "Lacy, I'm not worried about their little bean shooters."
Lacy blinked. "B-But…"
"Don't worry your pretty little head, missy" Liby said as she worked the pin against the fraying rope, "we'll be home in time for dinner."
Lacy watched with dawning amazement as Liby did her best to make good on her promise. Did she? Find out next time on The BS Life of Lemy Loud.
Lemy sat at his desk with his hands on his lap and a thoughtful expression on his face. His eyes were far away and he was smiling.
He'd been here nearly an hour staring off into space like Michael Myers in his cell at Smith's Grove, and he still couldn't fucking believe it. He had sex. With Leia. On the couch. He thought back to it and shook his head slowly. It was hazy, like a pleasant dream, and...man, it was making him hard again just thinking about it. The feeling of her lips kissing his naked flesh, of her body squeezing his as he brought her to orgasm, the way her watery eyes narrowed as her body pinched in pleasure. He only regretted not cuddling with her afterwards and basking in the warm afterglow of their lovemaking together. Yeah, I know, where's your bike, fag? Well...I just got laid, bitch, so there.
That was minor, though; the look in her eyes when she came, the love and adoration...that's what he wanted all along, and recalling it made him feel weak and tingly. And that first nut, man...it felt like his fucking everything was coming out. The second was nice too.
You know, I-I'm fucking speechless. I don't know what to say. Hahaha. First time for everything, right? I feel...I mean, I don't feel one hundred percent better, but I'm so fucking close, it really doesn't matter. I'm a little tired. And hungry. And my shit's all sore. Not my dick, but my stomach muscles and stuff. Feels like a did a bunch of crunches in gym class. I wonder how she feels. She was walking funny when I saw her coming out of the bathroom earlier - that means it was good, right? Yeah, yeah, it had to be. Did you see her face? She was blushing and drooling and...damn, I'm sprung again. How do I stack up to Dad? Was I as good? What does she look like when he's done with her? Was she faking? No, you can't fake that, man, and something tells me she isn't the kind of girl to spare your feelings like that. If you suck, she'll tell you. She told me I suck, but that's our thing, you know?
He reached into the drawer and pulled out his weed and a packet of papers. He took one out, laid it on the desk, and took a pinch of herb from the bag. He sprinkled it on and chuckled.
Oh, man, I still can't believe it. That was fucking awesome. There's no way in hell this day can get any better.
He picked up the paper just as someone knocked on the door.
See? It's always when I'm in the middle of something. Almost an hour of just sitting here, and nothing, but I go to roll a jay and BOOM.
Wait a minute, maybe it's Leia!
His dick twitched. "Come in!"
The knob rattled and turned slowly, the hinges creaking their anticipation. Lemy twisted around in the chair, his arm resting on the back. When he saw her, his excitement fell.
It wasn't Leia.
It was Lyra, dressed randomly in a brown trench coat and holding a boombox. Her mahogany hair spilled over her shoulders and her purple shadowed eyes were half-lidded, a wicked smirk on her freckled face.
Uh...she's looking at me like Leia did.
His heart leapt.
"Uh, hey," he said. His throat was suddenly dry and his dick was crying out for round three.
WIthout a word, she slipped in and shut the door behind her; when she thumbed the lock, Lemy swallowed hard.
She sat the boombox on the dresser and hit PLAY. Sexy guitar drifted from the speaker, and she turned to him with a sultry smile. She threw the coat off, and when Lemy got a load of what she was wearing, his jaw hit his chest: A short, sleeveless black dress that stopped well above her knees and lacy black stockings. She strutted forward, her hips moving in sweet time with the music.
She gave me the queen
She gave me the king
She was wheelin' and dealin'
Just doin' her thing
Standing before him now, she ran her hands slowly over her body, starting between her legs and traveling up her stomach. She brushed her teeth across her bottom lip and bent; her lips so close to his that he could taste them.
She was holdin' a pair
But I had to try
Her deuce was wild
But my ace was high
She cupped her breasts and stood, spinning and cocking a dirty come-hither look over her shoulder, her hair falling across one side of her face. She grazed her fingers down the outsides of her thighs and lifted the hem of the dress; he caught a flash of her perfect heart-shaped ass and her frilly black thong and nearly toppled over.
But how was I to know
That she'd been dealt with before
Said she'd never had a full house
She turned to the side and trailed her fingers up her leg. He saw her stomach, her belly-button ring, her flesh warm, smooth, and smattered with freckles.
But I should have known
From the tattoo on her left leg
And the garter on her right
She'd have the card to bring me down
If she played it right
She was facing away from him now, between his knees, her body going down like a well oiled machine. She brushed her hair away from the back of her neck and shot him a look that made him shiver. "Unzip me," she said huskily.
Lemy reached out one trembling hand and yanked the zipper down; the flaps fell open. More naked flesh. More freckles. More perfection.
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She pushed smoothly to her full height and turned. She bit her bottom lip as she crossed her arms in an X and gripped the hem of the dress in her fingers. Her hips swayed from side to side. "Take it off?" she breathed.
Lemy nodded. "Y-Yes."
She pulled it up slowly, agonizingly, the fabric rustling as it lifted, baring more and more of her; her bra was black, her skin white.
The dress slipped over her head in a spill of hair, and she tossed it aside. It landed on the floor in a heap. She stood before him, her body slowly spinning for his approval. The bra, the panties, the stockings...black on white...lace on silk...he was panting now, his hands aching to touch her.
Poker face was her name
Poker face was her nature
Poker straight was a game
If she knew she could get you
She swept forward, hips swishing. Between his legs she turned away from him and bent at the waist, her ass filling his world. He was shaking, hot, and gasping for breath. He couldn't take it anymore: He grabbed her hips, the heat of her flesh making him shake even more. She stood and turned, her fingers running through his hair. "Touch me."
She played 'em fast
And she played 'em hard
She could close her eyes
And feel every card
He put his hands on her hips and looked up at her. Her eyes were closed and her head thrown back. He swallowed thickly, scooted closer, and trailed his palms up her sides. She moved to the bluesy beat, her thighs rubbing together and her a long hmmmm quivering from her lips. Lemy placed a soft kiss on her stomach, and she gasped, her fingernails grazing his scalp. "I like that," she said.
But how was I to know
That she'd been shuffled before
Said she'd never had a royal flush
She sank fluidly to her knees; their noses touched, their eyes locked and held. She splayed her hands on his legs and crept them up, her fingers trailing fire in their wake. He breathed in her warm exhalations and whined in the back of his throat like a needy puppy. She laughed and tilted her head; her lips skimmed his, their eyes never breaking contact. "Am I turning you on, little bro?" she asked seductively. Her fingertips floated over his bulge, and his hips jerked spasmodically forward.
"Y-Yes."
But I should have known
That all the cards were comin'
From the bottom of the pack
She unbuttoned his jeans and pulled the zipper down. Electricity cracked along his spine as she reached in and pulled him out: His tip was purple and leaky with yearning, his shaft red and thrumming like a high tension wire. She tossed her hair and looked up at him with lidded eyes. He stared down at her, his chest rising and falling as he clawed for breath. "You wanna jam, little bro?" she asked.
"Uh-uh," he said, his voice cracking.
She molded her lips to his head, then pushed down, taking him into her warm, wet mouth. Sensation exploded at the base of his spine, and he threw his head back with a hitching moan. Her lips hugged him tightly on the way down, the tip of her tongue lapping his sensitive underside like a lollipop. He touched the back of her throat, and she pulled up y, a burning mixture of her salvia and his precum swishing around his tightening girth. She reached his head, then went down again; her fingers kneaded his legs, and somehow his fingers wound up in her thick hair.
And if I'd known what she was dealin' out
I'd have dealt it back
Lemy moaned as Lyra pulled back, her lips slipping over his head. She brushed her hair behind her ear and she looked up at him with a satisfied smile. On her knees, with his precum shimmering on her lips, she was the most beautiful thing Lemy had ever seen - fuck Leia.
She ran her tongue across her bottom lip, catching his essence and purring in contentment. "How do you want it, little bro?"
For a moment he simply stared at her. Every way you can possibly have it! An idea came to him, and he liicked his lips.
"Anything you want," she said and kissed his tip, "just tell me."
"B-Bend over."
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, and who knows what else?
She's got the jack, yeah, yeah
She was standing at the edge of the bed now, looking at him over her shoulder as she reached behind and undid the clasps of her bra. She removed it slowly, then tossed it away; Lemy's eyes slid over her naked back...her shoulder blades, the dimples at the base of her spine, her moles and freckles, each a mark of beauty upon the canvas of her body. She hooked her thumbs into her panties and pushed them down, the fabric kissing her satiny flesh on the way. When they were at her knees, she tossed her hair again and bent, her legs planted far apart. He could see it all...pink and moist and inviting...and it was all his.
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack
She's got the jack
He took her hips in his hands and pressed his head against her opening; her heat was incredible, sickly, rolling off of her in fragrant waves. She watched him over her shoulder, her eyes smoldering with lust. "Do it," she said, "make music with me."
Lemy bared his teeth and thrusted, his rigid member parting her body and filling her to the hilt. She jumped and gasped, which made her walls tighten around him. He withdrew until his head was almost out, then threw his hips forward again. "Oh, fuck!" she cried into the mattress, her voice muffled.
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
Oh, it was a bad deal, (jack)
She gave me the (jack), hey
She's got the (jack), she's got the (jack)
She's got the (jack), ooh can't you tell
He lay on his back, Lyra straddled him. She stared into his eyes as she lifted up and then brought herself down again, her teeth chewing her bottom lip. He moaned and rubbed quick, frentic circles into her stiff nipples. "Like that," she said and tossed her head, her hair sweeping to one side. "God, Lemy, like t-that…"
She's got the jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack
She's got the jack
They twined their fingers and stared lovingly into each other's eyes as their mutual climax approached. "Are you close?" Lyra trembled.
"Y-Yes," Lemy said, gazing deeply into her soft brown eyes.
"Cum with me."
He squeezed her hands and arched his back, sending himself deeper into her sacred place. She began to tremble, and he expanded.
Aaaaaah
After, he held her in his arms and peppered kisses along her shoulders and the back of her neck; he breathed slowly through his nose, her smell wrapping itself around his brain like a heartfelt embrace. She laughed. "That actually wasn't bad," she said appreciatively. "Good job, Lemy."
"Uh, thanks."
Did she expect it to be bad?
"Did you...get off?"
She turned and met his eyes, then touched his cheek. "I did. Twice."
A boastful grin shot across Lemy's face; it was one of those things you can't help even if you want to. "Yeah?"
She nodded. "Umhm. It wasn't about me, though. I know you've been kinda...you know...hurting."
She didn't know the half of it, but right now, in the warm afterglow of their lovemaking, it didn't matter. He hugged her to his chest and kissed her cheek. "Kind of."
"How does it feel to not be a virgin anymore?"
Uh...well...actually. "About that…"
She watched him expectantly.
"I kind of lost it already."
Her brow shot up, and a smile played at the corner of her lips. "To who?"
"Leia."
"Really? When did that happen?"
Lemy rubbed the back of his neck. "Like...an hour ago."
She stared at him with an inscrutable expression for a moment, then beamed. "Wow, two girls in one day. Nice."
Liby slipped her hands out of the rope and swung her arms around. Lacy glanced over, and her eyes widened. "You actually did it?"
"I did," Liby replied, massaging one wrist and then the other. The rope left deep, pink marks, but they wouldn't be permanente. "Now watch this." She removed her headgear, grabbed the metal mouthpiece, and pulled it out. Her hands flew in a blur, and in less than a minute she held it up for her sister's inspection. It was bent into a long, thin makeshift stiletto with a tapered point.
Lacy's face lit up, and her beautiful green eyes twinkled like emeralds. "Whoa," she breathed, and Liby blushed. "That's badass. I didn't know you were awesome."
Liby's blush deepened. "There's a lot you don't know about me, sis." She got up, went behind Lacy's chair, and untied her hands. "I learned that from a DXS agent named MacGyver. Give me ten minutes and I can turn this chair into a functioning nuclear reactor."
"What DXS?" Lacy asked as she brought her hands around and flexed her wrists.
"Government agency," Liby said simply and got to her feet, "it's top secret. I really shouldn't have even told you about them." She went to the door and pressed her ear against it. Lacy came up and stood next to her; the younger girl's hands were balled at her chest and she nervously chewed her bottom lip. Liby didn't hear anything, but she knew the guard was there...hopefully with his back to them. She turned to Lacy and motioned her back. "This might get dangerous and I don't want you to get hurt."
Lacy blinked. "What are you going to do?"
Holding up the stiletto, she flashed a dark, metal smile. "Get us out of here." She laid her hand on the knob and tested it gingerly.
Unlocked.
She looked to Lacy; she leaned against the wall with her arms crossed. "I'm...I'm kind of scared," Lacy said, and flicked her eyes away.
Liby went to her and laid a comforting arm on her shoulder. "Don't be. I won't let anything happen to you. I promise."
Their eyes met for a moment, and in Lacy's, Liby saw that she wasn't kind of scared...she was terrified. She pressed her forehead to Lacy's and held her gaze. "I need you to please be brave for me, okay? That's the only way we're going to get out of here."
"I ca -"
"Yes you can. You're Lacy Loud, you're the best sports star in Royal Woods. You can do anything."
Lacy bowed her head. "No I'm not," she said sullenly, and the misery in her voice made Liby's heart twinge. "I'm a loser and I disappoint my mom." She started to cry, and Liby blinked. Nothing brings out those deeply repressed emotions quite like being thrown into a van and then tied to a chair by gangsters. The pain in her pinched face - eyes squeezed close, lips screwed up - made Liby herself want to cry.
This, however, was not the time.
"Shhh," Liby said and glanced over her shoulder; the door remained firmly closed. "Lacy, you're not a disappointment. I've been to your games, I've seen what you can do on the field. Remember that game last fall? Where you ran the ball fifty yards and doged every single player on the other team?"
Lacy nodded dejectedly.
"I was sitting next to your mom, and you know what I saw on her face?"
Lacy looked up. "What?"
"Pride," Liby said, "I saw pride. She was beaming. You're fast and strong and brave...and that's what I need right now. Can you do that for me?"
They stared each other in the eyes; unshed tears stood in Lacy's, and Liby desperately wanted to hug her little sister, kiss her forehead, and stroke her hair.
"Lace?"
Lacy nodded and wiped a tear away from her eye. "Yeah, I'll do it. F-For you."
Liby smiled and touched her sister's wet cheek. "Thank you."
With that out of the way, Liby crept to the door and listened again, but heard nothing. She laid her left hand on the knob and turned it slowly, careful not to make any noise. The shiv was gripped tightly in her right; her heart knocked and nerves slithered in the pit of her stomach. Lacy closed her eyes and bowed her head like a woman expecting a blow.
Careful, ever so careful, Lacy opened the door without making a single solitary sound. The guard, as she had hoped, was facing down the hall, his back to her. He held his AK at the ready, unmoving, like a statue. Liby glanced at Lacy, who watched her with anxious eyes, then tiptoed out with a deep breath.
Lacy poked her head around the corner; Liby crept up to the guard at a crouch. He was much taller than her, and bigger too, what was she - ?
Springing like a frog, she leapt and, in one fluid motion, jammed the stiletto through the back of his skull and covered his mouth with her other hand, mufflung his cry. She yanked him back, and his knees went out from under him; he crashed to the floor in a sitting position, Liby's hand still clamped over his face. "Shhhh," she whispered, "go to sleep."
One more muffled exclamation, and he fell still.
Lacy's jaw dropped and she looked up at Liby; she eased the guard to the ground then took the machine gun from his hands. She slipped the strap over her shoulder, and looked at Liby. "I'm sorry you had to see that," the older girl said.
Lacy opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't: The strangest and keenest mixture of horror, exhilaration, and elation coursed through her veins. Her heart slammed and her body tingled; a tiny smile curled the ends of her lips. "T-That was awesome."
Ignoring her, Liby squinted down the hall. It was lit (poorly) by a series of overhead lamps that cast murky orange light onto the concrete floor. "Alright," she said and turned her head to Lacy, "it's a straight shot to the stairs. Stay behind me and move quickly." She glanced down at the guard, then stooped and yanked his sidearm from its holster. "This is a Desert Eagle Mark I," she told Lacy patiently, then glanced over her shoulder. "It's Israeli. It chambers the largest centerfire cartridge of any magazine-fed, self-loading pistol. The kick is a bastard, but if you hold it with both hands, you should be fine."
She held it out, and the color drained from Lacy's face. "Y-You want me to s-shoot someone?"
Liby nodded. "Yes. If you have to."
Lacy's eyes darted from the gun to Liby's face. Liby shook the gun, and Lacy snatched it quickly away, as though taking it was the same as ripping a Band-Aid off a wound. "The safety is off. Be very careful; only point it at something you want to die." She glanced down at the dead goon, then knelt. She rummaged through the pockets of his vest, her pink tongue plastered to her upper lip.
"What are you doing?" Lacy asked and shot a nervous look down the hall.
Liby didn't reply. She reached under his vest, and her face light up like the Fourth of July. She pulled something out and held it up. "Ha," she said.
It was black and circular, about the size of a baseball. Lacy craned her neck forward and squinted her eyes. "What is it"
"Grenade," Liby said happily as she got back to her feet. "These thing are really handy." She shoved it into the pocket of her dress and looked up at Lacy. Lacy wasn't a super spy for whatever like her sister (who was, like, the coolest person in the world now), but she knew that grenades went BOOM, and that was kind of scary, she wouldn't lie. "Now come on. Stay behind me, stay low, and hurry." She took off at a crouch, and Lacy rushed to keep up. Her heart thundered in her chest and adrenaline pumped through her body. She was tense, like a coil, and her breaths came in short, hot gasps. She was terrified, but also strangely excited.
Suddenly, an alarm wailed, and Lacy's heart came to a complete halt. Liby's step faltered. "Damn it," she hissed. Voices rose ahead the sound of running feet filled the corridor. Liby brought the gun up just as two goons appeared from the stairwell; she fired from the hip tat-tat-tat. One of them flew back against the wall, and the other jerked and spun as bullets crashed into him. The reports were deafening in the narrow space, and Lacy's ears rang. Liby dropped to one knee and wedged the stock into the crook of her shoulder. She threw a glance over her shoulder. "Get down!"
Lacy dropped and cowered behind her sister, her eyes squeezing closed; the rifle spoke again, and Lacy jumped with a cry.
"Alright," Liby said, "follow me."
They rushed down the hall, and Lacy gaped when they came to the bottom of the stairwell; five guys lay dead on the floor, their limbs bent in funny directions and their faces splattered with blood.
Liby flattened herself against the wall flanking the stairwell and took the grenade out of her pocket. Lacy's heartbeat sped up. "Plug your ears," Liby said, and brought it to her mouth, "this is going to be loud." She pulled the pin with her teeth, then popped out from concealment and tossed it underhand up the stairs. Guys screamed, one of them yelling, "Fall back! Fall back!" and Lacy pressed the heels of her palms against her ears.
BOOM!
The walls shook and someone wailed in pain. "Come on," Liby said. She pushed away from the wall, aimed the gun up the steps, and fired into the swirling smoke, then she was climbing, with Lacy close behind.
At the top, burned body parts littered the charred ground. A black guy sat dead against the wall, his face full of shrapnel. Lacy's stomach turned.
"There they are!" someone called. A man popped up from behind a stack of boxes along the far wall, and Liby crashed into Lacy; they sprawled on the floor as bullets bit into the wall, showering them with dust and bits of stone chips. "Crawl!" Liby cried, and scuttled past. Lacy got to her hands and knees and followed her sister behind a black van much like the one she was dragged into. Liby knelt and pressed herself against the back tire while Lacy sat up next to her.
"Watch my six," Liby said over her shoulder.
"Your what?" Lacy asked, confused.
"My back!" Liby snapped. She nodded toward the front of the van. "Make sure no one sneaks up on us." Lacy followed her sister's gaze. She started to protest but stopped herself: Liby needed her to be strong and brave, and while she may not be able to be strong and brave for herself, she would for her sister. She got to one knee and faced away from Liby, the Desert Eagle raised in shaky hands.
Liby raked the boxes across the way with fire, and someone bellowed. A man jumped up and started to aim, but Liby got the drop on him and fired: He flew back against the wall, hit it, and fell into a heap. A savage grin rent her face, and her normally placid eyes pooled with fire and fury. Her lips peeled back from her teeth and she tittered deep in her throat. This is what she lived for.
Lacy held the Desert Eagle on the front of the van, her heart throbbing with dread expectancy. She tried to regulate her breathing but -
A man in black appeared around the front end, and Lacy reflexively jerked the trigger: Fire leapt from the barrel and the gun bucked in her hands. The round struck the man in the middle section and knocked him off his feet even as Lacy toppled over. Jarring vibrations raced up her arms and her shoulder muscles ached. Ow, damn.
Liby withdrew behind the tire and listened. Hearing nothing, she turned to Lacy, who was pushing herself back up. "Okay, come on." With that, she shot away from the van and hurried for the door. She looked back to make sure Lacy was following, then turned. Outside, two men darted across the threshold and Liby fired, hitting one and missing the other. Going out there wasn't optimal since she didn't have the lay of the land. She looked around, and saw a set of metal steps leading up to the catwalk ringing the room. She veered and took it two at a time. Big windows overlooked the lot. Liby rubbed the grime away from one of the panes and peered out. She saw men crouching behind red barrels, crates, and the van. She turned around and surveyed the factory floor; it stood empty.
"Watch the stairs," she commanded, and Lacy instantly obeyed, turning and dropping to one knee, the barrel of the Desert Eagle pointing down the passage. Her sister had brought her this far, and Lacy was not going to start doubting her now.
At the window, Liby stared down into the yard. Three men were approaching the building, hunched over and moving slowly, cautiously, while the others - a dozen in all - covered them. She chuckled to herself. Wow, these guys are dumb. Whoever Montoya had hiring people was a real boob.
She was almost going to feel bad about this.
Almost.
Drawing the rifle back, she smashed the stock into one of the panes, then stuck the barrel out. The three stooges scattered; Liby opened up, bullets striking the ground and kicking up clouds of dust. One hit a guy in the leg and he dropped with a sissified shriek. She plugged a second in the side and he went down hard. The third she caught in the head; a fine mist of blood sprayed out and he pitched to one side.
The guys behind the barrels returned fire; bullets whizzed through the air and bit into brick. Liby didn't flinch, didn't falter. Instead, she rolled her eyes. You never take shelter behind a red barrel. Don't they teach this stuff in goon school? She lifted the rifle, lined up her shot, and fired: The barrels exploded in a ball of fire that made the world tremble, as though Cthulhu had turned in his sleep. The chain link fence surrounding the lot crashed down, and bits of rock, earth, and flaming body parts showered the ground.
She aimed next at the van and unleashed a torrent of steel; bullets pinged off the side, shattered the windshield, and popped the tires. One of the goons broke from cover and tried to flee, but Liby mowed him down; she was panting now, grinning madly, her eyes filled with unholy light. She was a shark, and, sister, she had the scent of blood. She hit the front end with a steam, and it exploded, flames leaping from the engine block and dancing wickedly into the air. She raked back and forth, back and forth, laughing now; a round struck the gas tank, and the van literally jumped into the air with the force of the resulting explosion. Lacy came up and stood next to her, her eyes wide and her jaw slack. "Wow," she breathed.
Her voice brought Liby back, and she shook her head. "Let's go," she said and went down the stairs. Outside, the crackle of flames and the oily tang of black smoke clogged the day. Liby came to a stop and looked around. "Where's that bastard Montoya?" she asked.
As if in answer, the flat whump-whump-whump of helicopter blades sounded to her left. She and Liby turned just as the chopper lifted off from the roof. Liby raised the rifle and aimed.
Click-click-click.
Shit!
The hatchway on the side of the chopper slid open. Liby saw the .50 cal and her heart dropped. "Get down!" she screamed, and speared Lacy out of the way just as the gunner opened up. Lacy lay face down in the dirt, trembling an crying; Liby sheidled her with her body, pressing her face into her soft, fragrant hair. The fire stopped, and the chopper soared away, its nose angled down. Liby jumped to her feet just and watched it disappear over the top of a building, her fists and teeth clenching in impotent rage.
"THIS ISN'T OVER!" she screamed, her voice echoing through the world. "ONE DAY I'LL GET YOU, MONTOYA!"
The drone of the blades faded, and she and Lacy were alone. Still shaking, she turned to her sister; the younger girl sat in the dirt, her face white and streaked with dirt. Tracks revealed where her tears had fallen. Liby held out her hand, and Lacy stared at her. Then she smiled and took it. "That was so fucking cool!" Lacy prattled as Liby pulled her to her feet. "You're like an action hero!"
Liby cast a frustrated look over her shoulder. "Yeah," she said sullenly, "an action hero who lost. He got away."
"Still! You were amazing!"
Liby blushed. "I was just doing my job. Let's go home."
They walked side-by-side, Lacy going on and on at first but falling silent when the adrenaline filtered from her system and the gravity of what had just happened sank in. Liby had seen this a thousand times before: At first they're numb in a way, then they start to feel. She felt it too now, sort of a quivering deep in the pit of her stomach. By the time they reached the house and sat together on the top porch step, twilight was lengthening to full dark and the streetlamps up and down Franklin were winking on. Lacy stared down at her feet and Liby gazed off into the distance; somewhere, Ricardo Montoya was laughing at her.
And plotting.
"You were really cool back there," Lacy said. Her voice was sober and heavy. "I mean...you knew just what to do and you were...I dunno. So brave and confident. I-I wish I could be like that."
What Lacy said back in the dungeon about her mother being disappointed in her and about not being good enough came back to Liby, and she turned her body to face her sister. She took one of her hand in both of hers. "You are brave, Lace," she said. "You were amazing back there yourself. I'm impressed. You took to it like a duck to water."
Lacy looked up at her, and their gazes locked; Liby never noticed how beautiful, how deep and enchanting, her sister's eyes were - green with hints of gold and brown.
Something stirred in her chest, and she could see Lacy feeling the same.
They leaned in slowly, their heads tilting and their lips grazing. For a moment they stared into one another's eyes, then they kissed, deeply, exploritorily.
Liby's hand went to Lacy's cheek as the kiss deepened, and Lacy threaded her fingers through Liby's hair. Their tounges worked hungrilly, their lips making wet squelching noises as they reveled in being alive.
Shortly, they moved into the house...upstairs...into Liby's bed. By the time they were done, neither was in love with Lemy anymore.
Lemy sat at the table with a shit eating grin on his face, a fork in one fist and a butter knife in the other. Across the table, Liby and Lacy stared into each other's eyes and giggled like schoolgirls (which, to be fair, they were), and Dad watched them with one raised eyebrow. Lemy wasn't paying attention to them, though; he was focused on Leia, who sat next to Dad with her elbows propped on the edge of the table. She held her fork to her lips and licked the tines suggestively, slowly; she looked him dead ass in the eyes as she did it, too.
"So," Dad asked as he buttered a dinner roll, "anything interesting happen today?
"Um, no," Leia said, "I was really disappointed today. Twice." She smirked brattily at Lemy.
Dad hummed. "I'm sorry to hear that. Lemy? Anything?"
Lemy snorted. "Nope," he said, "just threw a hotdog down a hallway...twice."
Leia's eyes narrowed and she shook her head. "Fuck you," she mouthed.
"Maybe later," he mouthed back.
She flipped him off.
He waved his hand and dug in. As he ate, he stole surreptitious glances at Lyra, and every time he did, his heart twinged with something.
Something like love.