I'm Back :)
Miss Me? (I'm like totally self-centered)
Enjoy :)
(Love how the title of this chapter refers to me and to the... actual... chapter...)
Supposedly, his reflection is far more important than passing pedestrians. Butch smirks, responding to himself in his car mirror. His Lamborghini flashes by, a streak of light follows, stunning eyes for only seconds. The music's bass vibrates the windows, along with every other item of the car. He turns a sharp corner, and another, reaching his destination. He runs a hand through his hair before stepping out.
Waiting, Brick and Boomer, no communication involved. Boomer leans against the nearest light pole, hands stuffed in his sweatshirt, a downgrade to what he wore the last encounter. Brick floats nearby, upside down, his impatients getting the best of him. Butch trots around his vehicle,
"Hello gentleman," he playfully opens with.
Dust diffuses around the suddenly stopped car, the music dies down to silence. The boys have returned to the dusty place of no where that contains the evilist of evil: HIM. They take a moment to collect themselves, inwardly daring the other to step forward. They all imply and are already on their way in.
Every few inches down the steps and the temperature rises, tension between the boys increases. Can't explain, but any kind of communication seems fragile between the boys. They always get along, unless business takes over. HIM has his ways of twisting people, mentally and physically. He manipulates the smartest of people, forcing lies upon them. Just as he has done with the Rowdyruff Boys.
Butch pushes the rotting door aside, all blinded by a red light. A surprised gasp is heard on the other side.
"Not late this time." HIM hasn't turned around yet, "Those girls have become an influence, I see." he finally turns, glaring at Butch. "We're not getting too comfortable with one are we?" Butch feels that comment slice through his response, preventing him from retorting. "Of course not. You know better." The sarcasm floats in the air as the other two Ruffs get the joke.
HIM walks on the tip of his heels, approaching a wardrobe. He can sense the boys' concerns, judging by the amount of sweat stench in the air. He pulls out three bottles of wine, same substance on the inside, but a beautiful unique design on the outside. "Would have waited a week," he laughs, "but you boys are a few steps ahead, aren't cha?"
All three glasses are thrown into the air, each one caught by the designated Ruff. "Now take these home and enjoy." The last word lingers on. HIM's wide smile is a signal to leave.
The boys make it through the worn out door, but not before Butch is yanked back by his collar! Boomer and Brick turn at the choking sound, witnessing the door close before their eyes. Brick runs to it, pressing his ear against the door. He catches the last few sounds, wincing at the anger held within them. Before he can attempt to pry the door off its hinges, it opens. Stands Butch, normal as ever, hair slightly muffled and shirt wrinkled. He walks through the frame, assuring he's fine. The door slams, left over sand and dirt flies around them.
"Dude, what the hell?" Brick hollers at Butch who's way ahead, already near the car. Boomer gradually walks behind, concerned neither for what happend behind the door, or what is about to break through between his brothers.
Butch sighs, pulling out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one. "Gonna need a more specific question then that." He let's out a long puff of air, smirking. Brick, not even fifteen feet away, flashes up to his brother, smacking the cigarette out of his hand.
"Why is HIM pissed at us!" Brick may be the leader, but he shows more concern when ever HIM is on their case. Butch holds an innocent position,
"Calm yo titties. He's not even mad." Butch defends, " just gave me a warning." He attempts to retrieve his now burnt out cigarette, but Brick swiftly kicks it aside.
"He was yelling at you." Brick retorts, "About?" He pushes again. Butch gives a disapproving stare, but giving in.
"Dude, she's hot." Butch confesses, a smile about to form. Brick's eye begins to twitch, "HIM just brought up the Green Puff, no big deal."
"Nice." Boomer comments, getting in the backseat, bored out of his mind.
"Okay, so you almost got yourself killed, because you think- never mind! Just get in the car." Brick's sentence trails off as he slams the door of the Lamborghini. Butch mimics, his attitude light and fluffy.
"One, don't slam the fucking door. Two, you're gonna sit there and tell me you don't think Blos-"
"I'm done talking about this." His response is over-dramatic. Butch gives Boomer a 'can you believe this guy' look, then adjusts himself in the driver's' seat. He glances at his red haired brother once more before shifting the car in reverse and leaving the dusty parking lot. Hopefully neither of them returning for a while.
No bedroom could be more worse than the combination of how stuffy Butch's had gotten. With the dessert topping of the already bad smells that come with it. Buttercup lie on her back, the one hand that isn't handcuffed, is resting on her stomach. She had spent the first twenty minutes of being held against her will trying to escape. She made the green glow appear several times, but all failed. Finally she resulted to looking through the nightstand next to the bed. She found nothing except old phone chargers and instructions for the toaster.
Now she just lies there, staring at the ceiling. Literally counting how many songs she's about to sing real obnoxious-like. Tempting on it, she hears the front door open. Now she can't decide whether she's excited, or would rather stay put like a dog on a leash.
Butch walks through his door, sighing. The first thing he does is pull out that bottle of wine. Smiling, he removes his shoes and jacket, then makes beeline for the hallway. Passing it, he immediately drops the wine into the trashcan. No way in hell he's drinking that shit. He'd rather die, which may become the case.
He begins to show too much excitement for just returning home. He's twitching again, overjoyed to fuck up Buttercup's day, the rest of it anyway. "Honey, I'm home!" He shouts, opening his bedroom door. There she is, unimpressed, as usual. Butch sprints over to his bed, jumping on it. He lands on his stomach next to her, his chin resting in the palms of his hands. "I didn't get your lady tubes. So tell me their isn't a bloody mess under you."
"What a wonderful way to start a conversation." She laughs, sitting up- or trying to. Butch watches her wrist fumble within the cuff. He rolls his eyes, still lying down, he reaches into his pocket, pulling the handcuffs key out. He doesn't hesitate to fully extend on top of her just to set her free.
"Wait," he stops, her irritation increasing, "You're not gonna pull like a huge wrath on me, are ya?"
"I'll try and hold back as much as I can." She resists, her eyes hit the ceiling. He smirks as the key unlocks the cuffs.
"There, are you happy n-" his words are cut off by a sharp kick in the torso, a punch in arm and a strong echoing slap across the cheek. Buttercup is already on the other side of the room before he can react in anyway.
"Are you mentally insane!" her words bark through his ears. Butch holds his cheek, turning to her.
"Wha-"
"No! Don't answer that." she holds a stance, huffing out a breath. "I have been lying on that bed for nearly the whole day, maybe a drink of water or a fucking granola bar would've done well," she's about to speak again, but her eyes widen, "Uh. Just- hold on." she urges past Butch, only to be stopped for about the millionth time, "Ugh What!"
"Just hold on," he mimics her, "Where are you going?" he's alert now, no more games. Buttercup points down, an obvious look on her face.
"About to piss," she answers. Butch doesn't respond, but steps aside. She obliges, leaving the room as quickly as possible. Butch sighs, rubbing his face. He peeks through his fingers, glancing through the door. He steps out into the hall, his eyes immediately find the trash can that contains the wine. He would've never double thought it, but he's already gaining a migraine from this chick whose been here for almost two full days. The agony. He takes the idea, throwing it out. Nothing will convince him to bring his lips near that tart taste of liquid that vanishes troubles.
TV it is then.
Buttercup abruptly opens the door, her hair dripping wet, leaving water stains on Butch's shirt. She continues to wear what he gave her before, only until she demands new clothing. She begins ranting as soon as she turns the corner, "Okay, so nothing for me then?" she refers to Butch bringing home nothing for her needs. He's sprawled on the couch, both arms hanging over the back.
"Uh? Oh yeah, I forgot." he wipes his nose, eyes glued to the television. Buttercup tilts her head back, seriously not believing him. She places her hands on her hips,
"Where the hell did you go exactly?"
"Where I said I was going." he shakes his raven bangs in front of his eyes, holding back a smile. "And I don't think I should answer any questions until I get an apology." he glances at her sharply with his emerald orbs.
"Apology? For what?"
Butch sits up, running his fingers through his hair, "How about," he begins, "You slapped me, destroyed my room, and you were born." he returns his eyes to the TV. Buttercup sighs,
"I don't think your mom really wanted you coming out of her vagina anyway." she retorts, peacefully sitting on the end of the couch, her legs crossed in a petite way.
"Nice try, I was actually born in a t-" he stops, regretting starting the sentence. But Buttercup has the courtesy to finish for him.
"A toilet? Oh I knew that, it just gets funnier every time I hear it." She laughs, her laughter slowly forming into something awkward. Butch shakes his head, resting his elbows on his knees. Nothing could help this scene more than a commercial about tampons.
The two sit there, just staring at the television, something they're both used to. Buttercup never realized how annoyed her sisters probably were at this. Just doing nothing, being lazy. She just hates how it took getting kidnapped to acknowledge it.
The door interrupts her thoughts. It rings, knocks, then rings again. Butch ignores Buttercup's forming of a sentence and goes to the repetition of sounds. She just had to follow. The Rowdyruff glares at her, slowly opening the door. "Hey!" a petite blonde engulfs Butch, nearly choking him. Her screeches are at high frequencies, causing any ear to bleed.
"Heather, what are you doing here?" Butch's reaction is priceless. Obvioulsy a chick he banged. Buttercup acts like an annoying little sister, trying to see what the girl looks like. In the process of doing this, Heather and Butch exchange playful banter between each other.
"Oh," the woman stops, "I didn't know you had someone over." she interrupts what ever they were going on about, noticing Buttercup. Butch doesn't lose contact with Heather, he slowly moves his arm up the door frame, blocking view for her to see. Conflict has now consumed him.
"I don't, that's just my... Sister."
"That's disgusting," The Powerpuff responds. She slips under Butch's arm, facing Heather, shaking her hand. "Don't listen to anything he says. I'm his roommate." She hears Butch's sigh of relief. Buttercup takes part in staring Heather down. She obtains the look of a preppy sixteen year old, which in contrast, is gross.
"Ha, I thought you lived alone?" She's still shaking hands with Buttercup, awkwardly letting go. Butch takes in a sharp breath, before going along with this stupid plan, but payback will be involved.
"I do! But, Buttercup here, is always out, due to her work on the streets." he states seriously. A smile is found on Heather, but it shrinks, when no one denies. Buttercup can only express how much she hates him right now.
"Uh yeah," Buttercup gestures everyone to leave the doorway, they all invade the living room, "Prostitution is tough," she says through grit teeth, "But it gets the bills paid, ya know?" Butch laughs at that, enjoying his little revenge.
"I completely understand." Heather responds, about to sit down, until Butch pauses her. He changes his attitude quickly whispering in her ear seductively. Buttercup watches from the corner of her eye. "Okay." the blonde whispers, smiling. The Powerpuff gets the gist of it.
"You two probably want me to get out of your hair," Buttercup acts coy, her face showing innocence, "But Butch, I should probably show you this before you leave." she steps into the hall,
"I don't know, I think I'll just pass on that, it's getting late and-"
"Get in here NOW!"
Butch turns the corner, being abruptly pushed back into the wall. Buttercup holds her hands on his chest, "Why in the hell would you make me a prostitute?" she opens with.
"Hey, you had to come along and get all friendly. Revenge's a bitch, hon."
"That's not what revenge is." she corrects him. "This is: Tell her to leave."
"What? No way." he retorts, taking her hands off him. "It's too late now."
"Oh really? How late does it have to be for me to tell Princess about all of your little get-togethers?"
Butch stops, actually thinking this over. He glances into the living room, contemplating his choices. "Look, just give me tonight," Buttercup sighs at his plead, "And I'll send anyone else away, but not Heather. I mean... damn." he refers to the blonde's figure.
"So there's gonna be more?" the Powerpuff ignores the third-party compliment. Butch begins to feel remorseful,
"Well, yeah." he lets out. "I mean- no. No, I promise." he lies. He waits a moment before trying anything else, he definitely doesn't want her exploding again. But he does take an interest in her hair, it's at the stage of partially wet, yet almost dry. The little fly aways framing her face emphasize the green in her eyes, practically underlines them. By now she's calmed, taking the situation as a joke.
"Just this once, but if I even hear anything, I'm gonna complain like the worst motherfucker you've ever dealt with." she punches him in the stomach. He grunts, lightly bending forward.
"Okay," he catches his breath, "I'm not making any promises." Butch begins to step out of the scene, before turning and asking, "You know you could always join-"
"GO." Buttercup points to the direction of his room. Butch puts his hands up in defense, leaving with a dumbass smile on his smug little face. The green powerpuff enters the guest bedroom, slamming the door with her normal strength, but still causes an effect on the whole house.
Being taken through ecstasy, and all your nerves twitching along the path. Sounds come off your lips that arouse the partner. Sweat seems to be the only thing that is real, for your whole body is numb as you reach your climax. Feelings of excitement and anger and sometimes even regret, those are a few emotions expressed when-
"Okay! Will you shut up?" Buttercup bangs on the wall, sending signals through Butch's room. For the past hour all she's heard is a squeaky bed and tons of moaning. She's pretty sure she's traumatized. First it was arousing, then it was just fucking weird. About thirty minutes in is when the complaints started.
She pounds the wall once more, "Come on! I'm trying to sleep!" she forms a fist as tight it will go, knuckles turning white. She's able to make the green glow appear again, this time brighter. She takes a few seconds to acknowledge this, then returns to complaining. "Ugh!" she falls back on the bed, plugging her ears.
Not even five minutes later, and Buttercup is scared half to death when Butch crashes through her door. It swings around, hitting the wall, yet he stands there leaning on the frame; calm. "You done yet?" he folds his arms. Buttercup sits up on her knees.
"Jesus man! Are you having sex with her or trying to break her in half?"
"I'm not answering that." he yawns, putting his hand to his mouth. She didn't notice at first, but he's completed his look by showing up in plain black boxers, and hair that's askew. "So," his yawn comes to an end, "are you tired? 'Cause I'm pretty worn out." he makes his way over to her.
"No shit, you smell like sweat and BDSM." Buttercup spreads out on the bed so there's no room.
"Hey, whoa! I'm not into that. Too angsty afterwards." he grabs her ankles, sliding them off, creating a spot for him to sit, "But I'm surprised you know about it."
"Yeah, whatever. There's a lot of things you don't know about me, blah blah blah. Are you going to leave now?" she lets out quickly, pushing back her bangs. Butch; cliché, pretends to stretch, wrapping an arm around Buttercup's shoulders.
"Well, 'sis' I was thinking I could just stay here." he tightens his grip, "A little incest might do you good."
"Not your sister, remember? Roommate." she's given up on trying to escape his embrace. Butch laughs once, sliding his fingers down her arm.
"Sister, roommate, bitch. They're all the same." he jokes. Buttercup scoffs, moving his fingers back up to avoid any personal areas. "But you know, you should let me stay in here for the night."
"What? Nope, not happening." she wiggles herself away from him.
"Come on, you don't know what it's like to always have the chick I sleep with, cling to me in the morning." he pleads. Buttercup actually makes eye contact with him, something she hasn't done in a long time. For once, he actually looks desperate.
"So what, you're just gonna leave her there?" she asks, taking her eyes away from his. She nods towards the hall.
"Don't worry, she's dead asleep. That's why I came in here." Butch responds.
"Oh, so you were looking for a round two?" Buttercup only puts herself out into vulnerability.
"More like round seven." he confesses, scratching the back of his head.
"Didn't need to know that." she retorts, lightly muffling his hair. "But I can't help you. A little to late, this bed has already set sail for snooze-ville with my name on it."
"That's ridiculous," he begins, "Beds don't set sail." he smirks. Not one laugh was heard from miles. He's not as funny as he thinks. "Just this one time. And I promise, nothing bad will happen to you."
It's running through her mind now, for about the thousandth time. "Okay, so he's trying. That's cute. But you've only reunited with this guy for like two days. You know nothing about him, except from your childhood. Which in this case, doesn't help." Buttercup interrupts her own thoughts, "Aww, maybe you should try the livingroom." she states in monotone.
Butch gives up. He pats the side of the bed, getting off. "Shame, it would've been nice." he informs, a sad look in his eye. Buttercup is already pushing him to the door,
"I'm sorry, your sexual access to Buttercup has been denied. Try again later." The powerpuff mimics an informational, leading the rowdyruff into the hall. "Oh and Butch?" he turns at her call, "Put some clothes on."
"Take yours off and we have a deal."
"Goodnight Butch." Buttercup ignores him, shutting the door.
"Wait!" he grabs the knob, pulling it back. "Come here." he uses his index finger to guide her moves. She stays put. Butch sighs, grabbing the draw strings just below her shirt, yanking her to him. She lets out a small squeal of high frequency. He snakes his arms around her waist, while her back is against the rim of the door frame. His lips rest lightly on her ear as he whispers, "You can still join me on the couch." he offers, breathing hot air onto her cheek.
Butch begins to let his lips invade her neck. His wet kisses are enough to get any girl going. Buttercup couldn't help it this time. She's tough as hell, but when it comes to sensitivity, it gets fucked up. She closes her eyes for only a second, and lets out the smallest breath of air.
"I think I'll pass." she reluctently responds. Butch kisses her neck once more, a pecking sound left behind.
"Suit yourself baby-girl." he smiles seductively, still hoping to change her mind. Buttercup closes the door in his face.
Although, hidden behind it, she's holding back a smile.
Well Jesus Fucking Christ!
How are you all?
You all probably got married and had children, then they graduated from life!
Lol. But seriously. I could explain why I was on Hiatus for like ever, but I'd rather just PM about it.
Glad to be back :)
P.S. I'm a little rusty, so sorry for poor grammar and lack of creativity.