AN: This chapter contains a very M-rated scene in which I include 34 penis euphemisms. Which is almost half of all the penis euphemisms in the entire fic. You have been warned. This original chapter title was "Coincidentally, This Is The Chapter In Which Wenchicus Thoticus Hits 69,000 Words," but sadly, due to editing, that is no longer true.
Anyways... enjoy.
14. Everyone Gets Laid (Except Anakin)
i. You're The One That I Want
Once again, Ozai found himself gazing up the skirts of Mary Poppins as she drifted o'er the Viking longboat that he had been condemned to row.
Thorin's company merrily sang along to Finnish folk metal band Korpiklaani's "Vodka" blasting nigh deafeningly from that indigo sky. In the distance, jagged mountains comprised of the Fire Nation shores; aye, so close, yet so far were they. He was acutely aware of the weight of the crown resting in his pocket, and the dwarves buzzed with excitement o'er the prospect of attaining The Book of Fifty Grey Twilights and the final battle that awaited them.
Nonetheless, his mind produced naught but thoughts of the peasant. Fie, fie, to think that he had nigh crumpled to these constant assertions that he was, forsooth, gay. Yet the pleasant feeling of (he daresay) affection and the arousal that accompanied the memories of this morning threatened to overwhelm him. For his own good, those Viking dwarves had recruited him to their longboat and removed him from the presence of the peasant. Aye, this had to cease!
"Mary Poppins!" called he flirtatiously. "Do you spend so much time in the sky because you are so heavenly, my love?"
"Ah, be quiet, laddie, you're too young to be making such dad jokes," spake the eldest dwarf, a trail of bubbles floating lazily from his tobacco pipe.
"I'm flattered by your assumption of my youth, but I am divorced with two teenage children," explained he to that generous old dwarf. "Wait. Am I divorced? I don't even know if I divorced my ex-wife. Oh well. It doesn't matter. Because I am going to intercourse Hak— Mary Poppins."
"I'm practically perfect, in every way," trilled Mary Poppins.
"That you are, my darling," shouted he.
"I already know that — I don't need a man to validate me," yelled Mary Poppins in return.
"Just give it up, laddie," taunted another dwarf. "She don't want you. Go shag yur boyfrien' 'nstead."
"SILENCE," demanded Ozai. "SHE HAS NOT SEEN ME SHIRTLESS YET."
Forsooth, he erotically removed his top, and his bitchin' muscles flexed gloriously with his e'ery stroke of the oar (not a penis). Thorin regarded him with an approving nod and the not bad face, mildly impressed.
Aye, he did attempt to seduce Mary Poppins with more coquettish compliments; alas, the dwarves implored him to halt his efforts. Indeed, light does move faster than sound, and that is why some people seem bright until you engage them in conversation; likewise, some people appear attractive until you hear them speak. (However, bad pickup lines are always better than bragging about genocide or even conceding that you were annihilated in battle by a seventh-grader.)
Now in the heart of his homeland, Ozai did use that discarded shirt as a bandana to obscure his countenance and iconic, caprine facial hair. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the Vikings hoisted great bags of shekels from their longboats to rent out the majority of a shitty hostel rather than camping in tents like peasants. (Were they anticipating that a certain pair might require some privacy tonight? Mayhap.)
With the skill of an inbred chameleon, Ozai blent into the mass of dwarves, although he was sporting a bright blue outfit rather than the dull black and brown Thorin's company. Hakoda was practically skipping towards him, and leaping upon the thinking cupolas (heads) of two dwarves much like Legolas had done once upon a time, he catapulted himself into Mary Poppins's endless pouch (not a vagina, as much as he wished that it was) as she floated above the Vikings.
"What are you doing here?" cried she, rankled and startled.
"Ma'am, would you like me to show you something quite wondrous? And perhaps, allow me to bestow it upon you?" requested he from the interdimensional space of her handbag. "And I assure you, I am not talking about my penis, although I would be more than happy to supply that to you as well."
"Well, what is it?" asked she nervously as they floated into a vacant hotel room through the window.
From his pocket, he removed the crown that Suko had returned to him this morning. "This fine piece of jewelry has been in my family for generations. Because I am definitely not gay at all — I mean, not evil at all — I mean, I am neither gay nor evil, I thought that I would restore to this crown a positive light by presenting it to someone for whom I care."
"That's, um, very sweet of you," spake Mary Poppins. As that pair alighted upon the bed, Ozai climbed from those magical folds (not a vagina) whilst Mary twiddled the crown in her hands. "I haven't seen anything quite like this before. From whence did you acquire it?"
"Oh, I definitely didn't try to destroy the world or anything," explained he, even though it had very little to do with aught.
Mary Poppins merely shot him a bizarre look, and he forced himself to dispel his doubts about the whole situation. He removed that makeshift bandana from his countenance and laid seductively 'cross the bed like a pin-up girl in a calendar.
"No one ever filled me on precisely what is was that you did," spake Mary without glancing up from the shiny hairpiece betwixt her palms, "for I was busy floating amongst the clouds. But you did save my life, so I am willing to give you a chance — but only as a fr…"
Forsooth, Mary Poppins did gaze upon that super buff, shirtless figure and meet the sultry gleam in his eyne. Ozai's thumpy boy (heart) beat faster, but nay, 'twas not because he was about to get some Poppins pussy. Thoughts of Hakoda rushed into his cerebral mush (brain), and by Ben 10, he nigh felt bad about what he was doing; perhaps the peasant desired to intercourse him, but romance wasn't a real thing that existed anyways. Aye, but here he was, reaffirming his heterosexuality, and what else mattered?
Without breaking that smouldering ocular organ (eye) contact, he grazed her leg with a touch light enough to send a shiver, like a jolt of electricity, surging through Mary's body, 'fore he pulled her in closer by the waist. With his other set of fingers (hand), he reached to smooth the patch of hair that peaked out from 'neath her derby hat, then cupped her smooth, soft cheek (facial cheek). Down travelled that withholding hand, down her neck, brushing her coconuts of pleasure (breasts), until he daintily hesitated o'er the fabric that guarded her magical folds (vagina).
Gently, he guided her into a horizontal position whilst forcibly blocking out all images of the peasant that flooded into his thought centre (mind). Mary Poppins let out a sharp, involuntary gasp when his cold fingers met her inner thigh.
Alas, both swiveled their heads upon hearing the only banging occurring in the vicinity of their hostel room, that which was upon the door.
"Babe?" filtered Hakoda's voice through that hinged barrier (door).
"OH FUCK!" whisper-screamed Ozai, and he dove for Mary Poppins's infinitely deep purse (not a vagina) to hide.
That entrance swung open, and Hakoda froze in the horrible shock of being cuckolded (kind of). "What the hell is going on here?" demanded he upon observing his lover's lower half poking out of the carpet bag and Mary Poppins lying upon the bed with her skirts hitched up. Ozai halted his upside-down flailing and pushed himself sheepishly from that pocketbook.
"First of all, you, stay away from my man!" raged Hakoda, storming into the room. "And you," he admonished Ozai scathingly. "What? What the fuck?" He seized that whilom tyrant, present-day scumbag, by his hircine beard and dragged him mercilessly into the hallway.
"Can't a man reaffirm his heterosexuality?" whined he. Hakoda roughly planted a stomper (foot) upon his chest as he writhed about on the ground. "Ouchie," wept he.
"I thought we had something!" wailed Hakoda, verily the dramatic half of the dadly duo this time. "You fucking ho!"
"We were never in a relationship!" asserted he. He wriggled out from 'neath Hakoda's stance and struggled to his feet.
"Oh, so you're just going to fuck Mary Poppins, and that'll just undo everything that's happened between us?" cried he. "Maybe you are a fucking psychopath after all. Even if you don't want to be with me, don't you at least care about our friendship?"
"Aye, if it's naught but a friendship, why do you care if I desire to intercourse other people, peasant?" argued Ozai.
"STOP CALLING ME 'PEASANT.' I'VE HAD ENOUGH," shouted Hakoda, encroaching upon his recalcitrant partner. "AND IT'S BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, YOU STUPID FUCKING ASSHOLE." With a single yet mighty flick of the wrist, he bitch-slapped the everloving fuck out of Ozai.
Forsooth, that bitch-slap was not your average bitch-slap: it was a bitch slap of revelation! Ozai stumbled backwards 'gainst the handrail of the second floor of the shitty motel where he realised that aye, love was real, and it was standing right in front of him, ready to hammer him to a pulp if he durst fuck Mary Poppins.
"I'M SO GAY FOR YOU!" declared that erstwhile genocidal megalomaniac to the heavens, his vocalizations somewhere betwixt a screech and a sob. The only (debatably) human performance comparable to this great confession was one of Tommy Wiseau's many iconic lines from The Room: "YOU ARE TEARING ME APART, LISA!"
Hakoda merely remained where he was, braced in place with tears streaming down his face. Alas, he could not tear his gaze away from the agonized form of his lover, so contorted from silencing his true feelings for so long.
"I'm so sorry, please forgive me," sobbed he, collapsing to his knees. "I ne'er deserved a second chance, yet you gave me one, and as this hour of reckoning draws nigh, I realise that there is no one else who I would rather have by my side as Wenchicus Thoticus destroys the world. Baby, I would give up all my dreams of world domination for you, even if I still did 'got it.' I just didn't know that love was real until you came along and beat the shit out of me in the desert, but now I'm sure of it: you're the one for me — you're the one I that want."
Unimpressed, Hakoda crossed his arms and glared at his distraught inamorato. To see him freely doling out sexual favours to just anybody after the agonizing tension that had plagued them since they had met — aye, that would require a bit more apologising!
"Prove it," enunciated he, a scornful weight attached to his words. Vikings were emerging from hostel rooms to witness this commotion, but Hakoda gave nary a fuck, for he wanted Ozai to suffer, and forsooth, he stuttered and scrambled for words. "Tell me about it, stud," muttered Hakoda under his breath.
For an unbearable second they stared into each other's orbs (eyes), fearful that this was the end. Rage drained away, replaced with the excruciating sorrow of heartbreak.
But hark: Mario began to play the piano in the hotel lobby, and Ozai knew what he had to do. Although he sounded like a chimpanzee trying to squeeze one out when he sang, he recalled his favourite musical as a child, and began to rap.
"I've got chills… they're multiplyin'," rapped he from the ground, appealing to Hakoda's fond memories of the freezing nights that they had spent holding each other 'neath cosy blankets. Mario began to accompany him from the downstairs piano. "And I'm losin' control… cause the power you're supplyin'… it's electrifyin'!"
As he crawled towards Hakoda's haughty heels, that piano turned 'round to reveal the rest of the Super Mario squad playing instruments; aye, Princess Peach strummed the acoustic guitar, Toad tooted a trumpet, Waluigi tapped out some infectious grooves on the drum set, Bowser took o'er electric guitar duties, and as player two, Luigi was of course designated to the bass guitar. That sextet (group of six people) all performed harmonious backing vocals with all the beauty of the fall of capitalism.
"You better shape up," sang Hakoda in a deep, rich baritone, extending a disinterested foot to shoo his lover away. "'Cause I need a man… And my heart is set on you."
Ozai decided that Hakoda was a better singer than Mary Poppins anyways, as much as he had claimed to have no musical talent. He sprung to his leg bases (feet), reenergized. Meanwhile, Vikings were flooding into the parking lot that overlooked the ocean and organising themselves into dance troupes.
"You better shape up… You better understand — To my heart, I must be true!" belted out Ozai's favourite peasant sonorously. Tigress tossed a set of knotted sheets o'er the railing, which the dadly duo promptly used to slide down to ground level.
"Nothin' left, nothin' left for me to do," rapped he. Hakoda leapt into his arms and they descended into the parking lot.
"You're the one that I want, you are the one I want, ooh, ooh, ooh, honey," chorused they unison. "The one that I want, you are the one I want, ooh, ooh, ooh, honey!" Thorin's company of dwarves gracefully backflipped and landed in splits all around this dadly duo, precariously juggling battleaxes o'er their heads. "The one that I want, you are the one I want, ooh, ooh, ooh, the one I need! Oh yes indeed!" The Fuckless Five furiously began to assemble an elevated stage, complete with lavish red curtains and colourful stage lighting.
Hakoda broke free of his lover's arms and strode up upon that stage. He wasn't about to forgive Ozai after a simple verse and chorus — nay, proof required a full-length song. "If you're filled with affection that you're shy to convey, meditate in my direction…" He naughtily gyrated his hips and shot a playful, libidinous smile at the form still chasing after him. "Feel your way."
"I better shape up." Ozai clenched a single fist whilst crawling up the stairs to the stage. "'Cause you need a man." Oogway rigged up those lights, drawing from his secret career as a stagehand, and directed them in dazzling patterns 'round this pair of reconciling lovers.
"I need a man," sang Hakoda, "who can keep me satisfied!"
"I better shape up — if I'm gonna prove —"
"You better prove — that my faith is justified!" The Vikings cartwheeled around them, and Thorin released from his bag a little curly-haired man who started busting out some sick breakdancing moves. Captain Jack Sparrow cartwheeled clumsily behind them, leaving a trail of spilt rum in his wake.
"Are you sure?" Tigress rigged up some fireworks behind the stage.
"Yes I'm sure down deep inside," harmonized the dadly duo. Grabbing each other by the hands, they spun in a centrifugal circle whilst repeating that chorus ad nauseam. Fortunately, their racy dancing and grinding was enough to keep things interesting, and the Vikings merely upped their own moves, several drunkenly stripping. "You're the one that I want, you are the one that I want, ooh, ooh, ooh, honey! You're the one that I want, you are the one that I want…"
Bowser motioned to the band that they were on their last chorus; nay, he was not going to attempt the notorious live fadeout — they would end this in a momentous climax that would match the duet's own. He struck that last chord with a powerful flourish, the rest of the band also holding out their closing notes, and Waluigi took a shredtastic drum solo.
Fireworks exploded in the night sky and the velvet curtains closed as Hakoda dip-kissed Ozai. That meeting of lips was so magical that it bent space, time, and the four elements (plus all the ones on the periodic table that the Avatar franchise conveniently ignores). With the fervor of a mentally unstable Christian anti-masturbation campaigner, they passionately osculated, reveling in this long-awaited moment. Nay, their tongues did not battle for dominance despite the unrestrained vigour with which they expressed their love; forsooth, 'twas much like a romantic ballroom dance.
"All right folks, pack it up," spake Tigress, and the remainder of the Furious Five disassembled the stage whilst the dadly duo still stood upon it, locked in a perfervid embrace and bussing with an all-consuming desire for one another.
Fucklessly, Monkey pulled a board out from 'neath their feet, and they fell about a metre down onto the hard pavement of the parking lot. Laughing even as the impact brought a great pain to his arse (not the only pain he hoped his arse would take tonight), Hakoda affectionately gazed upon his smiling lover, still snugly resting in his arms.
Planting another long, deep kiss upon his puss (mouth), Hakoda rose to his feet and hefted Ozai into a bridal-style carry. Those strong arms wrapped themselves around the back of his neck, and soft lips traced his jawline.
Aye, the parking lot was already nigh deserted, but Thorin was still wandering about in search of the little man whom he had released from his bag during the musical number; Oogway flipped them some condoms and a packet of lube 'fore vanishing to his room. With growing impatience, Hakoda rushed up the stairs. Luckily, the kids were out Ben 10 knew where, probably saving the world or something, so after eagerly dropping Ozai onto the bed, he shut and locked the door.
A man deprived, Hakoda climbed feverishly atop his lover to have his ardor returned with an equal frenzy. Their locked lips moved in tandem with aching aggression and pure salaciousness; O, these parched blokes were finally quenching each other's thirst. Their synchronized rhythm slowed as those kisses, so imbued with passion and desire, deepened, and gasps and moans escaped into the sliver of space that still separated them.
Ozai's firm grip on the back of Hakoda's head loosened as his hands slipped down betwixt their two tightly pressed bodies, and Hakoda pulled back to allow his partner to undress him. "I didn't tell you to stop," taunted Ozai jocularly as he tugged Hakoda's shirt off o'er his head.
"If you insist," panted Hakoda. He bent down again lay caresses on his inamorato's neck, relishing the taste of him (smouldering firewood 'neath the cold night sky in a forest full of oak trees, which happened to be occupied solely by a twenty-two year-old, 5'6" male playing Smash Mouth's "All Star" on the banjo).
Ozai eased Hakoda's pants down 'round his hips, for he desired to unleash his lover's king dong (penis) from the fabric prison from which it so strained to break free. Hakoda paused again to finish removing his attire, and at last he revealed his mammoth mound of manhood to the one 'neath him who so craved it. In turn, he liberated Ozai of his britches as well and flung them theatrically to the side.
He gasped when he saw Ozai's trouser serpent, cupping his cheeks (facial cheeks) as if an adorable kitten had popped out of his lover's pants instead. "You have such a cute dick!" cried he, endeared. "Hey there lil' guy!" He booped it once and giggled with delight.
"PEASANT!" roared Ozai. In spite of what erotica of all types suggests, not everyone has a monster cock. Forsooth, some people have small tallywhackers, and thus feel the need to destroy the world in order to compensate. "My penis could kill you!"
"Oh, I don't think so. I mean, just look at it, it's such a friendly lil' guy, and it's so happy to see me, too! I'm not even upset. It's adorable," swooned Hakoda in a baby voice.
"Peasant, just fuck me already," demanded Ozai. Forsooth, Hakoda sat awkwardly betwixt his open legs.
He leaned over again to slide up along Ozai's bodacious torso, kissing his cheek (facial cheek) apologetically. Hakoda's donger jutted into his ridiculous abs, and his arousal too great to remain bitter, he reached for that Crushin' Russian whilst they exchanged little smatterings of kisses upon each other's countenances. That energy ramped up again, the passion and desperation returning to this long-restrained couple's fiery fornication.
His fist closed tight 'round Hakoda's temptation wand, he stroked that mighty anaconda with expertise possessed only by one who has spent two years alone in prison with naught but his noodly mancarrot. Stricken by an insane urge, he pressed his lips to Hakoda's neck to suck and bite that tantalizing flesh, and then began to work his way down that irresistible body. He lavished care upon his lover's hardened titty-toppers (nipples), and nervously, yet with restless impatience, he reached Hakoda's lower half.
Teasingly, he caressed and tongued Hakoda's inner thigh, ignoring that ripe banana beside him that so cried for his attention. As an individual who practiced safe sex, Hakoda retrieved the condom from the nightstand and stretched it o'er his moby dick (aye, even during oral sex, it is best to use protection — they don't make flavoured condoms for nothin'). Experimentally, Ozai ran his meaty mouth boy (tongue) down the length of Hakoda's wee-wee.
"You're killing me," griped Hakoda, nigh weeping at this display of restraint.
"I want you to beg me for it," murmured Ozai in a low, husky voice that could have conjured forth a flood from the panties of any woman who heard it, and induced any man's cock clock jump from six to twelve. He kissed the root of that beef thermometre tauntingly.
"Please, you've already caused me so much sexual frustration," sobbed Hakoda.
"More," prompted Ozai, pumping that wondrous wang with one deliberate, slow hand.
"What was that title you gave yourself when you decided to destroy the world…?" wondered Hakoda. "O mighty Penis King, please perform fellatio on me. I need it," pleaded he. "I need you!"
"Your wish is my command," spake he, grinning. At last, he began to administer the Succ.
Hakoda moaned pleasurably as his lover's buccal cavity (mouth) closed 'round his magenta mushroom. Tasting rubber (of course, that is preferable to contracting a sexually transmitted disease), Ozai cradled Captain Winky's head gently with his tongue as he explored his lover's middle leg, growing used to the sensation of the executive staff member in his mouth. Tentatively, he sat up further to allow that jizz whiz to venture down his thrussy (throat pussy). Though new to it all, he kept on truckin' (or suckin', more accurately).
With burning impatience, Hakoda interpreted this as an invitation to take the exploration of Ozai's trachea into his own hands (or rather, into his own dick). However, because communication is very important during sex and consent is an ongoing process, first asked he, "Can I fuck you in the mouth since you clearly have no idea what you're doing?" (Remember kids, initial sex with a new partner is unlikely to be ideal, for neither person yet knows the preferences of the other.)
"Sure, I suppose," replied he through a mouthful of manmeat; embarrassment of his own overconfidence was growing, and he sought to relieve himself of the pressure of control. He pulled back to speak, mouth 'round the tip of ol' jiggle daddy. "But you must promise to provide me with a blowjob demonstration sometime, yes?"
"Of course," growled he saucily. "But first you've got to learn not to speak with your mouth full." With that, Hakoda gripped a fistful of his lover's hair to draw him closer, and slid his lung puncturer into Ozai's throat, bit by bit. Then, with vigour and uncontrollable arousal, his sadistic, increasingly restless side decided that it was high time that Ozai choked on a dick.
Meanwhile, that quondam megalomaniac lay helplessly 'neath Hakoda's thrusting hips. Aye, 'twas naught he could do but feel that six-inch spike (as opposed to a nine-inch nail) force itself further inside of him. Miraculously, he was not dying, perhaps because Lord Ben 10 was smiling upon him today.
Am I enjoying this? wondered he hazily as Hakoda's sex pistol slid in and out of his mouth. Nay, he did not enjoy the taste of rubber, but he had not expected to so much as tolerate being sexually dominated. He wrenched himself out from underneath Hakoda and at last began hacking wildly.
"Shit, I'm sorry. Are you okay, babe?" asked he, concerned, and put a steady hand to Ozai's shoulder.
He managed a nod and wiped a string of drool from his mentum (chin). Gazing up into Hakoda's ocular melons (eyes), the imposing nature of his nude paramour dawned on him. That glistenin' gristle still stood at a majestic full salute, and Hakoda's features were darkened with lust.
Oh dear Ben 10, I'm a bottom after all, realised he, and 'fore he could halt himself, saith he, "My ass is grass, and you'd better mow it."
"Well, if you say so," obliged he naughtily. Once again, because he practiced safe sex and knew that spittle was not a suitable replacement for lubricant, Hakoda tore open the lube packet that Oogway had provided them. Wisely, that tortoise had provided them with water-based lubricant, for oil-based lube corrodes latex and is therefore incompatible with condoms.
Because it would also be quite painful to simply jam his cave hunter into Ozai's arsehole without first preparing him, he forced back his arousal this time in hopes that his restraint would aid his lover in enjoying their next act, a primary goal of any good sexual partner. He slipped a wet, lubricated digit into that tight, virginal back pussy (anus), and circumspectly proceeded to finger him. "How does that feel?" asked Hakoda, again recalling the importance of communication during sexual activity and the continuous nature of consent.
"Mm," grunted he, expression clouded o'er with prurience and an eager yearning. "I can take more."
Hakoda eased a second finger into his lover's bunghole and upped his pace whilst Ozai hungrily orbed (eyed) his heat-seeking moisture missile.
"Give it to me," commanded that whilom autocrat as though he was discussing complete dominion o'er the world rather than Hakoda's yum-yum. "I want that cock of yours deep inside my arse."
Compelled by the somewhat threatening demand of his lover, Hakoda removed his fingers from that rear rocket dock and hastily (but thoroughly) applied lubricant to his turd burglar. Without lube, anal sex is quite painful and can result in injury, and Hakoda wished to ensure that his partner's arsehole would not suffer any long-term damage as a result of their lascivious lovemaking.
Hakoda spread Ozai's legs and aligned his weiner with that lube tube, and in turn Ozai moaned breathily as that weapon of ass destruction penetrated his undefiled gay valve. Hakoda leaned forwards again and began to punish that wee tight little anus whilst Ozai gasped in time with each thrust.
He bent over to brush Ozai's temple with his lips, a silent reassurance that pleasure would shortly arrive, whilst his partner adjusted to the sensation of having a sixteen-centimetre (that's just o'er six inches, for you dirty Americans out there) train of pain up his arse. Forsooth, he began to feel something gratifying hidden behind the discomfort.
"Is that all you've got, peasant?" taunted he betwixt heaving breaths. "I like it rough, you know. Give it to me harder."
Frustrated, Hakoda abandoned his attempts to be gentle and succumbed Ozai's apparent kinkiness and his own restless arousal, torturously slowing his thrusts to maximize depth. Aye, it worked quickly and Ozai braced himself, legs locking together o'er Hakoda's back, fingers grasping at his shoulders.
Ozai's bitching transformed slowly but steadily into moans of satisfaction as the space betwixt his cheeks (ass cheeks) lit up with a wonderful feeling. Hakoda gradually increased his speed, relishing in his own approaching climax and the mercy at which he held his submissive inamorato; forsooth, Ozai's spheroids (eyes) were shut in pent-up bliss, his grip tight, his noises of pleasure unfiltered.
"Hakoda," panted he as his lover continued to ram it into him relentlessly, allowing the sublime sensation in his arse nary an instant to recede. He shamelessly lost control of himself, fingernails cutting into Hakoda's flesh, gasping and begging until his words slowly lost their meaning.
Because he was not a weak person who refused to kiss his partner after receiving head from them, Hakoda pressed his lips into those of his lover's as their first session of ass-pounding neared its end. Ozai sloppily returned his osculations betwixt those rhythmic gasps, the feebleness of his kisses a mere echo of the vigour with which he would have supplied them if Hakoda had not been totally dominating him at the moment.
"I'm gonna come," breathed Ozai into Hakoda's mouth. He pulled Hakoda tightly into his chest, who was still goin' at it like he was on the Discovery Channel. "No. Seriously. I'm gonna nut. Hakoda. Stop."
"You're into orgasm denial?" panted Hakoda, biting Ozai's lower lip playfully.
"My penis can kill you," insisted he frantically. "Pull out."
"But I'm so close—"
"FOR BEN 10'S SAKE HAKODA, PULL OUT," screeched he with a rising alarm. "PULL OUT, JUST TRUST ME ON THIS."
Hakoda rolled off of his lover, busting a nut just before a great plume of flame shot from his love gun.
"WHAT THE FUCK?" screamed Hakoda. "WHAT THE IN THE NAME OF BEN 10? WERE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME? WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME THAT YOU COULD DO THAT?!"
"I told you that it could kill you!" protested Ozai. "I have no control over it anymore, you must understand!"
"WELL, IT DOESN'T MATTER NOW, BECAUSE THE CEILING IS ON FIRE!" panicked Hakoda.
"What do you want me to do about that?"
"I don't know, maybe we should get the hell out of here?"
"Naked?"
"This clearly isn't safe!"
A sharp series of knocks on the door cut off their argument. "Is everything okay in there?" asked a squeaky prepubescent voice.
"NO, IT'S NOT," cried Hakoda. With utter fucklessness regarding his nudity and the fact that he was about to flash a fourteen year-old child, he strode towards that door and flung it open.
"NO, WAIT," objected Ozai; alas, 'twas too late, and his mortal enemy was going to see him naked with his small dingleberry just hangin' out (even though he apparently already dreamt about Ozai's Royal Parts).
Oogway and the kids stood in the doorway. He was, of course, fuckless, Sokka was screaming and vomiting whilst running in circles, and Aang helpfully extinguished the blaze. "What happened here?" asked he whilst trying really hard not to look at either of their twenty-first digits.
"You didn't do your job all the way!" screamed Hakoda, slamming his head into the wall. "I'm sorry, I know it's probably not your fault or anything, but I almost got killed by a penis."
"Would you care to explain?" asked Oogway, sitting down uncomfortably close to where Ozai was attempting to hide himself 'neath the blankets.
"He just came fire!" shouted Hakoda.
"Do you want me to fix it?" offered the good-natured preadolescent.
"Does now look like a good time, boy?" wept Ozai. "Don't you come near me!"
"Well, all right, the fire's been taken care of. Let's leave them to sort this out on their own, shall we?" spake Oogway. "Did you remember to use a condom?"
"Yes, we did — we used the ones you gave us," answered Hakoda.
"Good job, you should be fine, then. STDs aside, Wenchicus Thoticus shan't pull mpreg on you two. Aye, The Shaper is a cruel god, but not that cruel," saith he. With the wave of his staff (not a penis), he and the kids disappeared out the door.
The dadly duo gazed at each other for a moment, and Hakoda slipped into bed beside Ozai. Aye, suddenly he found himself unable to restrain a great guffaw. "What the hell," laughed he. "You really should have told me about that earlier, but I can't stay mad at you. Not after tonight."
"I do apologise for fucking up such a great many times 'fore getting things right," spake he. He moved in closer and wrapped his arms 'round Hakoda, planting a tender kiss right upon his nose. "Aye, you are too good to me, Hakoda."
"I know," replied he, and returned the peck to Ozai's forehead. "And too good for you."
"Peasant!?" burst out he.
Hakoda chortled once more. "I'm going to spare the person reading this a sappy speech, because let's be real, everyone just wants smut anyways. I'll just leave it at this — I'm glad we're together." Pulling his now official lover close, they shared an affectionate, wholesome kiss.
And forsooth, now that the slowburn is over, The Shaper of Destiny plans for the final battle.
ii. Suko's Steamboat Adventures Ft. Twenty Sexual Partners And Bowser
Suko's nimble digits darted 'cross that grand piano in a glorious jazz solo that would have put Herbie Hancock to shame. The drummer, Pickles the Drummer, dropped his sticks in awe, and the upright bassist fell o'er the side of the steamboat, out cold from Suko's sheer skill.
Aye, Suko's jazz trio was supposed to be simple background music for this lavish party, but he had once again inadvertently stolen the show. Sweating profusely 'neath his boater cap and impeccably dapper white suit, he fretted that he had drawn too much attention to himself.
As he concluded that scintillating solo with a burst of 256th notes in a new key that he had invented on the spot that was so divine that it could have brought Ben 10 back to the Heavenly Control Room had he played it for a bit longer, the crowd burst into thunderous applause and popped twelve dozen champagne bottles in his honour. (Alas, he only sought honour from his father, or his alternate universe father, as a reward for his megalomaniacal tendencies.) Though jazz piano was not traditionally a great way to pick up chicks, women and men alike threw their clothing and shekels at him. He had ne'er before experienced this wonder, and decided that he really ought to perform live more often.
"Thank you, thank you," spake he, bowing to the audience. A pair of panties nigh swept from his head the boater cap. Several passengers who also happened to be keyboardists hurtled themselves off the side of the steamboat with the knowledge that they could ne'er so much as achieve a mere fraction of Suko's godlike talent. "Now, who would like to fuck me?" asked he with the subtlety and tact of his father's double.
Suko copulated with fourteen women, five men, and one genderless entity of pure energy well into the early hours of the morning. Deciding that this was the life, he laid back in bed for a bit of shut-orb (shut-eye) surrounded by his numerous nude lovers, of whom he had impregnated three.
Because he was a fool, Suko figured that if he were an evil emperor, he could have a grand harem and engage in such behaviour every night, instead of merely continuing his career as a live performer and fornicating with countless groupies after each show he played. After all, he had promptly walked away from a redemption arc in the last chapter, so in the eternal words of Smash Mouth, he "ain't the sharpest tool in the shed."
Aye, on this steamboat he floated down the river, on his way to the imperial city. His "allies" had deserted him O so fucklessly, but now, he was returning with a vengeance. He had nary a single shekel with which to acquire transportation, and hence, he had been hired to fill out this party boat's jazz trio. Of course, his employers had dumped bags of shekels upon him mere seconds after he had touched that keyboard.
Those posh partiers departed from the boat at the noon hour. Suko waved amicably to the partners of the people whose pink fortresses (vaginas and various other holes) he had attacked (fucked), and a new set of passengers boarded.
"Greetings," hissed a gruff voice into his audial hole (ear). Suko gazed up at the spiky-shelled dragon… turtle… thing… looming over him.
"Oh, hey Bowser," replied he nonchalantly. "What are you doing here?"
"Replacing your upright bassist," answered he.
"I thought you only played guitar," commented Suko.
"Aye, I do, but I wouldn't want to compete with your fantastic piano skills by playing another lead instrument. You're much better than Mario," remarked he.
"Why, thank you," spake Suko, blushing. "Speaking of Mario, I thought you took a break from The Villainous Alliance to go check up on him and the squad."
"Forsooth, I did. You've really got no hopes of winning your father over, if you were still planning on doing so." Bowser picked up that double bass from where it still lay at the edge of the boat, twirled it once, and experimentally plucked a few notes. The depth and resonance of that low E scrombulated Suko's brain and nigh sent him jittering into the water below.
"Why, what happened?" asked he after the vibrations subsided. "He turned me down yesterday when I happened to run into him due to plot convenience. He said he doesn't 'got it' anymore. So, maybe there is a way to help him 'get it' again, and then he can join us?"
"I'm afraid that it won't matter. He's in love," spat Bowser disgustedly.
"Bullshit!" cried Suko.
"Nay, nay, 'tis true. Believe me, 'twas a whole musical number in which he and his paramour proclaimed their love for one another. And then the whole hostel could hear him screaming from the assblasting he received afterwards. Give up hope — you still have the rest of The Villainous Alliance to help you achieve world domination."
"Nay, but I don't, Bowser!" Putting the back of his hand to his forehead, he draped himself 'cross his grand piano as though Chapter Fourteen was going to contain another musical number. "For they betrayed me and left me to die!"
"…Oh, they did?" saith he. On the double bass, he began to play a very shitty rendition of Lady Gaga's hit song "Bad Romance," fucking up every note and then lamely correcting himself.
"For fuck's sake, it's tuned liked an electric bass guitar," scolded Suko, briefly dropping his dramatic pose. "It can't be that hard for you to play."
"But there are no frets!" whined Bowser.
"Oh whatever, just don't assault my ears like this whilst I'm trying to talk to you!"
Bowser set down that double bass. "Well, what did the Alliance do to you?"
"They ousted me whilst we were on our killing spree!" He produced a rose from thin (not thicc) air solely to pluck off its petals and angstily toss them into the wind. "To be fair, I totally saw it coming from the instant that I met them, but that doesn't mean that I'm not extremely hurt by all of this! Now, I am returning to the imperial city to reclaim my position at the head of our organization and to punish those traitors."
"I talked to Anakin whilst he was high on cocaine; he regrets going along with Cruella and Bellatrix's orders. I can help you ally with him again. You know, if you can't win over your father, then you should win him over, since he and your father are essentially the same person in terms of their evil deeds."
Suko gagged on his own spit; during more than one of his copulations of the night, he had pretended that his partner had been Anakin.
"Actually, he's your grandfather three universes removed," explained Bowser, and Suko vomited blood o'er the side of the piano. "Osai is your father, who is just an imitation of Ozai, who is voiced by Mark Hamill, who also plays Luke Skywalker, who is Anakin's son. Therefore, you are Anakin's grandson."
"What sort of incest is that!?" exploded Suko; he hardly had to mime fainting in shock.
"No one mentioned incest, Suko," spake Bowser.
"Metaphorical incest," clarified he futilely. The breeze blew a repudiated petal directly into his countenance, momentarily blinding him.
"Well, I think that you should appeal to the bond betwixt you and Anakin," encouraged Bowser, ignoring his comment, "and I shall help you do so."
"What if I win o'er my alternate universe father with how Anakin is his father two universes removed?" wondered Suko. "Because we all know that I'm just another link in the chain of bad father-son relationships."
"Well, if you really want to, but I don't think it's going to work. He's just entered into a romantic relationship with a peasant man, so he likely isn't craving any other affection at the moment."
"What if I found a way to restore to him his powers?" put forth Suko. "That would bring him back." He let out a soft "owie" upon pricking himself on the rose's thorns.
"Kid, just let it go," advised Bowser. "How are you going to do that anyways?"
"I'm going to watch the last two seasons of this universe's TV show, Bowser," spake Suko pointedly. Having stripped the rose stem bare, he discarded it into the river below. "That's what I'm going to do. Or, like, I'm sure Anakin's Force powers have a way to do it, or…" He grinned devilishly. "I have an idea."
"All right, I suppose you could try whatever it is that you have in mind, though I doubt anything will work. But for now, we have some jazz to play."
"And I have bitches to fuck," saith Suko, pulling down his boater hat determinedly. Bowser, Suko, and Pickles the Drummer took up their places at the transom of the steamboat and burst into a smooth jazz rendition of Deicide's "Once Upon The Cross," the song that The Shaper of Destiny was currently jammin' to in the Heavenly Control Room.
iii. An Ice French Hip
"High five me, brotha!" shouted Sooka drunkenly. He and Anakin stood upon the palace balcony overlooking the imperial city, which was currently flooded.
"Burning things is so much more fun than flooding them," sighed Anakin.
"I'mean, yeah, but these fellas can't do jack shit 'bout water," pointed out Sooka.
"I just have this insatiable urge to kill, especially in fun, violent ways. It's never been this bad before. It's as if the more I kill, the more I need to kill," explained he. "But if I kill everyone, then world domination will be aimless."
"You jus' do whatever makes yo' lil' heart happy," slurred Sooka, jabbing a finger into Anakin's chest.
"I don't know. I mean, being the avatar is fun and all, but ever since Suko's been gone, it's almost like I've needed to kill more people just to make up for his absence."
"Mayhaps you're jus' a-talkin' 'bout friendship," spake Sooka.
Anakin shrugged indifferently. He wasn't going to be like his son from two universes removed and complain about how everything that involved having feelings was gay, because he gave nary a fuck about gender, and would stick his mutton javelin (penis) into almost anything.
"Mayhaps ya shouldn't go 'round killin' e'eryone. Ya don't know how many friends you could be a-slaughterin'," advised Sooka.
"Sooka, you see, when you're a supervillain, all of your friends kill each other because they all want the same resource: power. That's what happened to Suko, and now I feel that I'm torn between my loyalty to you and Suko, and to Bellatrix and Cruella."
"Oh, forget 'bout them ol' hags," spake Sooka dismissively. He fell off the balcony in his intoxicated state, but Pidgeot swooped down to catch him like a deus ex machina eagle from Lord of The Rings.
"But they're, like, actually competent," insisted Anakin. "They're working out the prophecy. Sure, Suko captured the palace and came up with some decent plans, but he couldn't have done it without us. Cruella and Bellatrix are like my mentors… better mentors than Obi Wan Ke-fucking-Nobi… but you and Suko are my… yes, I suppose what we have is… French hip."
"Friendship?" echoed Sooka. Pidgeot set him back upon that balcony and perched atop the railing.
"Aye, fresh dip," saith Anakin.
"Friendship," corrected Sooka.
"Fred's ship," spake Anakin.
"Oh boy, you can't find yo' ass wit' both yo' hands in yo' back pockets," muttered Sooka, elegantly facepalming. "Anywho, do ya feel evil 'nough to ditch yo' mentors?"
"I mean, I guess. I've done so much more killing after getting here than I could have ever hoped to do as a Jedi, or even as a Sith Lord," mused he. He gazed out upon the flooded imperial city, where prostitutes had already constructed rafts out of empty beer bottles, legos, and human bones. "I simply don't know what the directive is anymore. We all want to be the one to rule the world, but how does the prophecy and The Book of Fifty Grey Twilights tie into this?"
"Well, if'n ya pull the rest'ration prophecy, then y'all'll be headin' back to your 'riginal universes, so yain't gon' get no world domination like that," explicated Sooka. "We're all united for that cause, even if'n we be fightin' each other for power. Me, I was ne'er s'much as s'post to be a villain, I ain't got as much in this as I reckon all y'all real evil folk do."
"What do you mean, you're not a villain?" echoed Anakin.
"Yeah, I ain't a real villain. Why, I was s'post to be a hero. Not the main hero, no sirree. Just a comic relief fella on the side o' good — Ong's the main fella. An' Suko, he was s'post to get a 'demption arc, but now his old man be gettin' one instead. It's a right shame that ain't nothin's the way it's s'post to be. Hell, Anakin, if'n there be any reason that I'm on the side o' evil now, it's ta see you succeed, pal. An' 'cause the booze 'n' drugs here are so much better than that shit they done got at home."
Anakin felt a slight prick of an emotion that wasn't rage, angst, or lust. Nay, his heart warmed for an instant. "Thanks, I guess. I feel that I owe things to both you and Suko and to Cruella and Bellatrix, though. I mean, I know that you're totally wasted right now, but for you to say that to me is… really Nick."
"…Ya mean 'nice?'" asked Sooka.
"Yeah, that," spake Anakin. "We have an ice French hip."
"That we do, brotha," concurred Sooka heartily, giving up on correcting his comrade. He clinked his bottle of hard apple cider with the cup of cactus juice that Anakin had just unearthed from the cooler. Promptly, they proceeded to get utterly trashed.