rancidamy: That's so sweet! Thank you so much! So glad you enjoy it!
Friendly reminder, there are only two chapters after this one. Here's the last little bit of smut before the inevitable! Enjoy!
Marco walked into his kitchen, finding Jimmy sitting at the table, giggling wildly and rocking in his chair. On the table there lay a small bag, slit open. A crystal-like white powder littered the table. It was obvious what was going on. "Why the fuck are you still here?" Marco asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee.
"Sorry, Marco. I couldn't sleep." He stuttered.
"Did you even try?" Marco looked again, realizing he did not recognize the bags the heroin was in. "Where'd you get that?"
"Warehouse." He shrugged. "Seemed a pity to let it go to waste."
"Are you fucking kidding me, Jimmy? How much did you take?"
"All of it."
"Get it out of my fucking house, Jimmy! Go get rid of this shit!" He shouted. Jimmy jumped up, grabbing the drugs as fast as he could manage and running with them out the door.
Marco sat at his table, head in his hands, reminiscing about last night and how many ways he had fucked up.
"What's with all the fucking shouting?" He heard from a familiar voice. The owner of that voice rounded the corner and stared at the man at the table. "My head is fucking killing me!"
"You wish, you fat fuck. Do you even remember last night?" Marco flung a knife at Philly's head, barely missing and succeeding in wedging the blade of the knife in the kitchen cabinet behind his head. "Get out! Get out of my fucking sight, Philly! If you weren't my cousin, I would slit your fucking throat."
"Jeez, calm down. I'll go. Give you time to cool off." Philly pleaded. He grabbed his keys and left the house.
Veronica woke up when Marco stirred, finally freeing his arms from the grip of her hands, pulling from their spooning forms and shifting the bed as he arose.
She knew he would only go to the kitchen, walk through out the rest of the house, screaming and pointing fingers. She decided to stay in bed a while longer. She could hear him screaming, shouting, throwing things. She heard the distinct sound of breaking glass.
She would have to face him sooner or later. She knew that. She pulled herself from the bed, walking to the kitchen and finding the source of the smashing glass, his coffee mug, shattered against the side of the counter, the bitter brown liquid spilled across the floor.
"Marco." It slipped out like a sigh. He glanced up from the table, where his head was between his folded arms. She glided to the table, standing beside him, running her finger over her knuckles. He watched her, mesmerized by her actions. "You can stop beating yourself up now. I'm safe." She grabbed his hands, placing them on her back and turning him so he faced her. She inched closer and he instinctively pulled her onto his lap. "I'm always safe with you." She whispered.
"You ain't mad?"
"Not with you." She said honestly. "You knew the whole time, didn't you? About my dad?"
He looked down, not wanting to look her in the eye. "I didn't want to tell you." He said honestly, gripping her chin. "They're all dead. It's over now."
Jimmy worked his usual corners, trying to get rid of the shit like Marco told him. He kept telling himself he had taken too much, even for him. He knew exactly where to find him. The only other person in Sunset Park who was addicted like he was.
"Eyyy, Allie Boy!" He called as soon as he saw the tall Italian junky walk up. "Got some good shit for you today! You won't even believe this shit. It will blow your mind!"
Alphonse Anthony was sold. It didn't take much, in the first place. The mention of smack got his mouth to drooling and it was over. He invited the man over to sample his wares, bringing the rest of the drugs with him. What better way to pass the time, he thought.
"Marco." The name was frantic, coming from her lips. She hoped he understood the urgency as he kissed down her naked form, reclaiming her as his own.
He dipped his skilled tongue in her navel and her toes curled. He smirked up at her, aware of his affects. He continued his torturous descent to the apex of her thighs, kissing her inner thigh before he pried her moist slit open, delving into her folds with his tongue. She moaned, grasping at anything as she tried to gain purchase. She settled for the sheets, pulling the fittings from the corners of the bed as she bundled the cotton fabric in her hands.
The sight of her writhing beneath him was enough to send him over the edge and he groaned his frustration, his voice vibrating against her over sensitized clit as he continued his ministrations. Her thighs began to clench on his face, her dainty dancers feet on his shoulders, her tiny red painted toes digging into the flesh of his back. He wanted to take this from her. Claim one more thing that he could store with his other possessions. He wanted to make her feel better, remind her how he felt about her.
How he felt about her was certain. He imagined it was something like love. Whatever it was, it was certainly akin to what he imagined love to be.
He could feel her unraveling in his mouth, a few more skilled flicks of his tongue, his rough fingers curling inside of her slick channel. She clawed at his scalp now, finding it more effective than the sheets. She pulled him closer, ravaging her with his mouth until he sucked on her little bundle of nerves, causing her to come crashing down from the high he had created for her. He lapped at her a few more times as she muttered what sounded like a few curse words mixed in with his name.
He kissed her stomach, stopping to twirl his tongue around her nipples before his lips crashed hard into her, dominating her with want and need. She sighed heavily as he bit her neck. "No one will ever make you feel that good, again." His lips traveled upwards and he bit the shell of her ear. "I'm gonna ruin you."