A love penned in blood and bone

[valentinexblack]

Black Knights and Vodka

[boneletters]

The Scot neither hesitated nor hid the eye roll that came along with his wandering finger on her breast. Her German counterpart certainly went for what he wanted, and part of her loved it. Not that she would ever let him know. He’d let that go too easily to his head. “Since ever,” she repeated. “Eloquent, Leo.” 

She tensed slightly as he took his new position over her, but let herself relax and smirk once again. “Maybe I’ll let ya repay me la’er.” Valentine winked. “Though I dinnae promise it’ll be in the form o’ an orgasm. Maybe I’ll jus’ take all your money.” This time as his arrogance became blatant, she suppressed the dramatic eye roll. Instead, she lifted her chin slightly – angling her lips closer to his – and took on a significantly more sexual smile. One she had perfected in previous years that had been known to bring men to their knees with incredible thoughts of sexual pleasure. “I bet ya say tha’ t’ all the lasses ‘round here.”

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He shrugged, “Never claimed I was a wordsmith now, did I?” Leo far more enjoyed teasing nipples to perks, ghosting fingers over her body until it stood and smiled.  Reading the mood had never been his key trait but he was apt enough at understanding what was or wasn’t about to fly and let his fingers slip from the modest breast.

The trust fund brought into the equation made him laugh. “You don’t need my money,” he said through the laughs. “And you’d be hard pressed to grab it.  My Mom’s a real tight ass about letting me in that bank account.”  She leaned closer to play games but Leo silenced them all to kiss her instead, capturing her lips between his with a child’s timing.  It was forceful without being dominating, pressing near only to pull away with a grin. “I’m a talker, yeah, but it’s also true.  You want to pretend like my friends don’t run this establishment? Shit Harry alone  has his hands down so many pants I can’t even count.”

[bl-oodletters]

The Hills || Hal & Meghan

[boneletters]

“O que um homem bom,” she murmured, more to herself in response to his comment about Six. Her mouth was shut though, when the heavy butt of his gun met her cheek. She felt skin break easily and her legs collapsed beneath her, the weight of her slender form falling to the men still gripping her arms. 

That was going to hurt in the morning. It’s just foreplay, she reminded herself. You’ve had worse. You’ve felt worse pain inflicted by people you loved. This is just a child trying to show he’s got the biggest dick in the room. She let her body relax, head lulling back, he got a good grip of her hair and made sure to lock her eyes on a space on the wall just beside his head. The less tense her body was, she found, the less being beat hurt. At least Aden had taught her something decent. Part of her wanted to laugh at that thought. 

She inhaled sharply through her nose as he gripped her jaw, and her eyes shifted back to his from their spot on the wall. “Yes, sir,” she hissed, enunciating the syllables. “Anything else?”

[bl-oodletters]

Behind the muttering girl, Six grunted and Hal watched the beast of a man almost smile before flipping the expression into a scowl once more.  His second had a brilliant way of sensing that moment before the enemy struck, steeling the woman against Hal’s oncoming blow. Hal himself had learned to love the malice with how he now conducted himself.  He’d had no other choice.  The streets of New York were not Oxford; it was not your intellect or your wit that was most revered in this circle.  It was your fury.  Hal had not been born with the anger- Atticus had brought that onto him.  Women had been the hardest for him but it was amazing how substances could change a man’s moral.

Now it seemed automatic, the voice in his brain that reminded him There are no exceptions.  Exceptions become weakness and weakness’s become dead. His face was muted fury, eyes so cold the color had gone dark.  Meghan’s white cheek was already smarting, the skin raised and rapidly shifting purple.  Where the gun had slashed her skin, she bled and Hal heard the hush over his motley crew.  They were not seasoned gangsters - just starters.  The silence proved exactly what Hal had set out to prove.  

Someone - Hal thought it was the pudgy one named Blue - whispered his name.  “Sting,” it was from behind, but Hal ignored the plea.  He leaned towards the brunette, watching the wound swell before smiling.

“Glad to hear it.” With a jerk of his chin, Six pulled Meghan straighter, though Hal noted the gentile way of it.  “Now,” he started, “You’re going to help me make some product.  Creating that’s what you’re new duty is.  Do it well, Sparrow, and there will be perks.”  The next question he directed to Six as well as her, staring at the mans dark eyes.  “She a street punk or more credible?”

[valentinexblack]

Black Knights and Vodka

[valentinexblack]

“Are we, Leo?” Valentine’s lips spread into a smile, but let her eyes drift close as his eyes traced her body. He’d have to prove their perfect match later. She wasn’t interested in what he could do with that smart mouth quite yet. “Nae, I dinnae think so. I already broke my rule with tha’ blowjob, an’ I’m no’ lettin’ myself slip jus’ because ya offered t’ go down on me for wha’ I’m sure would be a wonderful experience.” 

She placed her hands behind her head and opened her eyes back up, looking at him and realizing that he probably had no idea what her rule was. “I’ve made a rule with myself tha’ I’m no’ sleepin’ with any o’ your wee threesome for a while.” She just made due with the members of the hockey team who were not Luke. “Ya all already have a decent amount o’ power over the rest o’ the school. I cannae let myself fall tha’ easily into obscurity in this place.”

[bl-oodletters]

The boy gave an enthusiastic nod, delayed only by his body’s satiated laziness.  “Course we are,” he looped his arm around Ryder’s shoulder to skim her breast instead and sighed, as if it was the clearest thing in the world.  “Two bodies haven’t matched up this well since …..ever.” He’d have to bone up on history, for his metaphors sake. “I know you haven’t really given this baby a test ride,” he gestured from abs to crotch quickly, “but I promise, we will not disappoint.”  

Leo turned to her then, suddenly swooping to hover over her, one arm resting beside her head as he smiled. “You sure I can’t repay?  Feels wrong to only receive...like I definitely owe you an orgasm.” His nose was near hers but the kraut was fairly sure Ryder wouldn’t have liked a kiss from him now.  “Not sure sleeping with me would do anything to make you less interesting.” He grinned. “It’s a status booster, if anything.”

[bl-oodletters]

The Hills || Hal & Meghan

[boneletters]

Meghan drew a neutral face as his speech started, despite the strong hands wrapped around her arms and his pissed off tone. No sense in letting him think he had any real affect on her. Not yet.

His reaction, though, did make it seem as though he was relatively new at this whole thing. Leading and taking in new recruits. This was barely scratching the surface of how truly cuntish she could get, and he seemed entirely upset by her. Teague had a look – perfected through years of making threats that were anything but empty – that made kids like this shit their pants. Valarie had that demonic smile that came out when she knew she would get to use the knife sheathed within her boot that struck fear in most hearts. Hell, even Mad Madge could get someone silent with a properly placed growl. Shows of brute force were rare in the Carte family. But they were all born into the life. Raised in the tradition of alcoholism and violence. Rarely a day went by where one member did not try to kill another. They were scary. 

This was painful, sure, but it made Hal reek of petulant child, and the awful part of Meghan that saw daylight far too often wondered if he was more bark than bite. A name like his carried certain connotations, but those could’ve easily been earned by a daddy who did all the work and let his kids reap the benefits. 

“Aw, but then who’d jack you off when Six here gets tendonitis?” She hissed as one of the men tightened his grip and twisted her arm, prompting Meg to backtrack slightly. “Alright, fuck. I’ll shut up. But I’m pretty sure the phrase is nip it in the bud.” 

Yeah, she was gonna bruise. Sure, he might still decide to shoot her. But she had found the man’s breaking point for being tormented, and that was worth it. And she was about to find out if he had the balls to back up his threats.

[bl-oodletters]

He’d half a mind to shoot her then, just to see her reaction.  Women grated on him just in nature, the dichotomy of their gender never ceasing to annoy him in etiquette- especially since his induction into Atticus’s world.  Prior to New York, women existed in a net to be protected, a safety completely abolished the moment he took a second name and drew arachnid limbs on the contours of his back.  Here women had a queer equality.

Six was cautioning her to silence, a grunted “Shut up,” in his gravelled baritone.  Hal himself tsked.

“He’s all brawn,” Hal sighed, nodding the gun towards his stone faced second.  “Six’s real soft underneath.  Doesn’t like roughing up girls when he doesn’t have to.” His stare chilled.  “We have to work on that, he and I.  Luckily, I don’t have the same issue.”

The butt of his gun struck against the brunt of her cheekbone, an expected crack following the hit.  He’d brought the weapon down harsh on her skin, arching in a quick flick of his wrist.  His grin was gone and his eyes shone dangerous, manic.

“Don’t think I need to tell you this meeting is going poorly but, seeing as you’re obviously slow, might as well have that right out in the damn open.” He was standing now, leaning over the table and to fist a hand tightly in her dark hair.   By that hold he tugged her up, letting six adjust until the bloodied cheek was near enough he could snarl in her ear.  “You want to be smart, save it for another fucking crowd in another fucking bar.  There’s only so many bridges you can burn in NYC.” His fingers cupped her jaw, already turning purple from his smack 

He squeezed his hold there tight.

“One more time,” he hissed against her ear, “Can you behave?”

[bl-oodletters]

The Hills || Hal & Meghan

[boneletters]

This was not the first time she’d heard whispers of whoring her out. Though, that was usually what they were. Whispers. The Greeks muttered it with tongues thick with liquor. The Portuguese were more brazen, pointing and speaking in their native tongue. Assuming that the boss’ trophy wife had no knowledge of her new family’s heritage. With a signature roll of the eyes, Meghan leaned back and interlaced her fingers behind her head, legs spread apart to show an entirely false comfort in the situation. Teague hadn’t taught her much – not that he was trying – but she had managed to walk away from her father-in-law with a better handle on how to look cool in any situation. 

Her relaxed smile faltered only for a brief moment, lower lip barely quivering, as an old memory came to mind. Jack, the first time she’d helped him and his family. You don’t have to accept our fate but fake it like your life depends on it, he had told her. Act like dying doesn’t faze you. Act like the feeling of hot metal against you skin is just foreplay. Your skin craves the touch of a knife. Fake it. No one here admires the dainty female act. Take care of yourself. Someone touches you and you don’t like it, punch them and shove them away. Okay?

“Yeah,” the word came languidly from her lips, smile stretching as she maintained eye contact with the mildly annoying man. “You don’t scare me. And my words aren’t just words. I wouldn’t be here if they were. My reputation clearly precedes me if someone here has told you what I’m called.” Though hubris was clear in her voice, she truly was not scared of Hal or his goons. Anything he could do to her had already been done. Her form, filled with a very particular brand of self hatred, bore those scars clearly. 

“Eight years,” the first straight answer from her. “Two in DC, one in New Hampshire, and five in Chicago.” Fuck, she hated that nickname, though.

[bl-oodletters]

For a moment, Hal wished the Greco gang dealt in sex more heavily.  Throwing the prickly brunette into his father’s line of work would have amused him to no end.  She’d likely get herself killed a month in, he realized, then thought it lucky on her behalf she was only attempting to run the Widow’s narcotics.   She was trying his patience, without a doubt.  You couldn’t be in this business thinking the world ran on sunshine and rainbows but respect was the name of the god damn game and so far his bottom feeder crack peddler was dealing out zero.  He knew his face, fought the doe eyes and posh past through metal and ink, but he was still surrounded by crones.  More importantly, his name was known.  Wanted or not, Hal Elias was protected in the streets of New York and he’d tasted enough blood to feel the weight behind his name.  

He drew on that name now, a vein jumping in his jaw as he listened to her hubris.  You don’t scare me.  The thought was not completely uncommon.  Compared to the cold cruelty of his father Hal was easily the lesser evil.  Evil, however, had many forms and he’d learned very quickly to bite the ears of dogs if he expected them to heel.  

“Right,  I think we’ve solidly established you’re one dumb fucking bitch.” It took only a look at Six and the man behind Meghan had both arms caught in a gorilla handed grip, Hal drawing his gun with a practiced efficiency. His elbow rested on the table before her, barrel of the Glock pointed directly at her throat.  “I’m not one to wave my cock around willy nilly but it seems to me you’re having a bit of a tough time keeping straight just where the fuck you are, so consider this a friendly reminder. Whatever fancy title you had before this - and I don’t mean this year, or this new chapter in your fucking yogalates life - I mean this moment. Right now.  Whoever you were before you stepped into my bar and decided to jump up the shark ladder using your tits for your brains - throw it right out the fucking window.  Because now?”  he unlocked the safety. “Now it’s just you and me baby, and I can tell you very quickly which one of us is calling the shots.  Your bravado is useless to me so let’s nip that in the butt right the fuck now and move on.”   

He lifted his chin, grin tight as he brought the gun down on the table.  “Think you can do that or does Six here have to break your wrist?”

[bl-oodletters]

The Hills || Hal & Meghan

[boneletters]

 Oh, yes, because this was exactly where Meghan wanted to be. A dark, loud club that reminded her of the same exact places she frequented almost nightly in high school. A dark, loud club that held the man who was going to be her “boss” for the next few months. A dark, loud club that she was only entering because she was required to by the Federal Bureau of Investigation if she ever wanted to see her two sons again. She was doing this for them. That had become her new mantra. Do it for the boys. 

It was that mantra that she had been repeating to herself ad nauseam that day since she woke up at four in the morning. Fuck, she hadn’t felt this physically and emotionally sick since she was actually pregnant with Charlie and Henry. Were it not for this hulk of a man – Six, apparently – leading her through the dark, loud club, she probably would have left out the back and puked in a bush or something. Do it for the boys, do it for the boys, do it for the— Her eyes met the man with the defined bone structure, sitting alone in the corner and looking like he was watching his domain. With her luck, that was going to be Hal. God, he looked like an arrogant fucker.

Come on, Six. Take a left turn. Don’t keep going straight. Yup, of course this was him. Fuck, the mental begging would have worked with Josh. She scoffed at his verbal appraisal of her and rolled her eyes. “I’d rather not,” she retorted, “But I’m sure this big fella could do a good job.” Her head tipped slightly to the right and she gave him a once over. “You look like a decent power bottom.” Meghan dropped heavily into the seat across from the man she would apparently be working for and crossed her arms over her chest. This really was going to be a nightmare, she could tell already.

“No. I don’t want to sell for you.” She shook her head slightly, a gentle smirk coloring her lips. “You need me to sell for you. I’m one of the best in the business. Have been for a long time. People’ve begged for my help.” Lie, lie, lie, lie. Or, half truth. She was a convincing little fucker, but far from the best in the business. But her husband’s family had taught her that enough cockiness could get anyone anything.

[bl-oodletters]

Behind the booth, Hal had his legs crossed, leaning a dark head against the red leather cushions.  He was beyond cocky where he sat, light eyes turned black from drug dilated pupils.  Already he raked his gaze over the girl, a craftsmen crudely but carefully assessing his wares.  They could pimp her and make a hell of a penny, but that was not strictly his business.  

“Yeah, I’m sure plenty of junkies would wanna fuck her,” he nodded approvingly to Six, as if the man had told him as much.  Despite his mass, Six was a fairly quiet man.  He kept to himself and offered his opinion only when prompted.  It was why Hal had taken this suggestion so seriously.  If Six had thought this woman was noteworthy it had to mean something.

Hal snorted at her joke, though he was anything but amused.  “I’d be careful being too mouthy.  You’re not in fucking wonderland, Alice,” he raised his chin and smiled.  “So keep your cunt comments thin and we’ll have a much easier time doing business.”  

A waitress came by then with a tray of shots they’d ordered earlier, a man sitting by with a crew cut eagerly reaching to pass the shots around.  Hal listened, scoffing at her bravado before tossing his shot back and hissing.  

“You don’t need to finger yourself with words, babe. It’s just damn words as far as I see it.”  Arms wired with muscle crossed,  already reaching for a cigarette.  “You call yourself, what, fucking Sparrow?  How long’ve you been in the game then, baby bird?”

[bl-oodletters]

Cold Western Sun || Aarohi to Eirik

Aarohi traced the markings on her hand, henna dark and perfectly woven across the freshly scrubbed skin.  Her mother had insisted on the ritual, begging through tears that it was her parental right to apply the bridal mehndi for good luck. It was an elaborate design her mother had woven against her palm, the crests of her feet and, in further detail, along her back.  It was a shame – she doubted her husband would appreciate the beauty in it, doubted that the white man would see her henna for the tribute it was. Aarohi knew that the majority of her culture would likely be forgotten, even with Juhee escorting her to this “Ireland” and so she treasured the memory of home against her palms.

She’d spent the first night of her journey crying into the hand drawn flowers and vomiting, suffering from a sea sickness she hadn’t expected.  This had taken both her and Juhee, the crew explaining while adding a mint oil to their food.  By the fifth day aboard this ship, Aarohi had found her footing and her appetite.  By the tenth they had arrived.

Now she held Juhee’s hand for courage as she stepped off their traveling boat and onto the dock of a dark, grey land.  She shrouded herself in blood silk, her parents kind enough to use her ‘dowry’ to buy a saree of dazzling red and gold. Aari kept her face veiled from the man murmured to be her husband, large green eyes peering up at the giant in intimidation.  Beneath the glittering cloth and finely applied cosmetics, she was still a slum girl. A slum girl captive in a land where none spoke her language and no one need care for a lost, hindu girl.

As they followed Fionn, the one who’d sold Aarohi in the first place to this grey and green land, the young bride couldn’t remember ever feeling more nervous. Her stomach was a choir of butterflies, threatening to burst from the hollows of her belly and spill her fears to everyone. There was a generous crowd gathered, making it quite difficult to move through unnoticed. The silks of her wedding gown forcing attention with vigor when compared to the humble blues and browns of the Erin people. She flushed, turning to Juhee for sympathy. It was not much better for her handmaiden, outfitted in what would have been a plain yellow sari were they home. Here they seemed an unwelcome sunshine. People around them whispered, no doubt about the two brown strangers that had come to their land, who were now approaching their lord. For the first time- though she expected not the last – Aarohi was glad she hadn’t learned her husband’s tongue.

She wasn’t completely sure of him, at first. He was flanked by men as wide and tall as he, outfitted in a similar style. To be larger than her was simple, Aarohi being of slight build for any woman, but her husband was more than that. He was a mountain of granite, from his eyes to the set of his bones. When he looked upon her there was no trace of enchantment, no hint of the love that she’d seen in the eyes of long married couples back home. She hadn’t expected to choose her husband, not even if her life had played out to a perfect normality in Hattusa, but she had expected someone willing. This man who’d bought her life looked just as ready to throw it away as he did pleased.  Tucking her body close, she bent into a deep bow, her veil kissing the ground as she showed the proper respect a wife should for her husband to be. The bangles on her wrists rang delicate together, a metal rain before the silence as she waited for his acknowledgment, standing to attention.

[valentinexblack]

Black Knights and Vodka

[bl-oodletters]

blvalentinexblack:

In response to his muddled English, Ryder only sucked harder. The spit dribbling down her chin from the sloppy blow job became lubrication for her hands to keep stroking his cock. She pushed her tongue into the back of her mouth to stop from being forced to swallow. When he did come, she had to repress the urge to gag. Never sexy. Instead, she pulled her mouth off his cock and spat into a tissue that went swiftly into the garbage. Next into her mouth was a mouthful of vodka that she promptly gargled and swallowed. 

She released his soft cock and dropped back onto the bed, laying beside her now pleased friend. “Ya have a lovely cock, Leo.” She dragged her arm across her mouth wiping away any residual spit or semen. “Not tha’ ya need your ego t’ get any bigger.”

He would have pulled out, deposited his excitement somewhere other than her lips.  It was, after all, the gentlemanly thing to do when receiving the greatest blowjob of your recent life.  But Ryder Black operated under her own rules in all things and so it didn’t surprise Leo that she didn’t allow him the chance.  There was only so much warning you could give standing on the edge as he’d been and he wasn’t going to complain about it, of course.   He let go, leaning back into the mattress for a moment of flushed satisfaction, breath heavier than he was used to from a simple fellatio.

“Told you so,” he said, smiling like the five year old quip he presented and stealing the vodka.  He swigged, looping an arm around her shoulder and laughing.  “If it wasn’t clear, your mouths fucking insane. We’re a damn perfect match.”  Propping up beside her instead, Leo’s eyes lightened with something almost excited and he swept her body quickly.  “You gonna let me reciprocate now?” 

[valentinexblack]

Black Knights and Vodka

[valentinexblack]

A moan, a real moan – deep and heavy, escaped her lips as his fingers finally pulled her roots taught. Yes, Leo, let go. So long as he didn’t force her to choke on his cock, she was happy to see a man like Leo giving in to his carnal and base needs because of what she did to him.

She squeezed him gently at the base and moaned around him again as his thigh created just the hint of friction between hers. If blowjobs didn’t make her jaw hurt, she could do this all day. Just listen to the sound of Leo moaning her name, totally lost in her. Not a bad nickname to be heard. Saliva clinging to her lips and blue eyes bright with residual tears from deep-throating, Ryder lifted her head off him to take a moment to catch her breath and watch him. The break only lasted a few seconds before her lips were back around him, this time detaching clawed fingers to reach between his legs and cup his balls. 

Ryder never swallowed unless she was forced to (via lost bets or agreements made beforehand) but a man finishing in her mouth was so much better than finishing on her in a place she would later have to try to clean. Like her hair. Fuck, she hated that. But right now, she wanted to see Leo finish. She wanted to see the man otherwise dripping with arrogance completely and totally helpless to her.

[bl-oodletters]

Each moan enhanced both the feel of her around his cock and the eroticism of the moment.  He pulled her hair tighter in response, tugging the long copper locks like a rope to his pleasure as she moved.  The closer he came the less words the German could drudge up.  His leg moved beneath her core in rhythmic shifts, applying a tight pressure against the dip between her body, pressing the black, cotton covered limb more insistently against her with purpose.  Deep throating wasn’t a skill you often stumbled upon in college - rare enough in the grown women he’d managed to seduce with a lifetime of experience sucking dick.  No it wasn’t a pleasure he often experienced and Ryder was young to have perfected the trick the way she had.  It was a moment he wanted to thank in kind and so his leg bent, and he aimed to angle a hard knee where his friend would appreciate it most.

Pull after pull brought Leo closer to his finish and he knew the moment was approaching faster than normal, faster than he’d prefer.  His stomach tightened, abs flexing against writhing skin as he staved off an orgasm that had been long coming where the Scott was concerned.  The moans he’d been quelling grew louder and eventually he was forced to words. “Ry I’m....fuck,” he choked on another moan but forced his head back with the words of good manner. “I’m gonna come...” he grunted, barely containing himself until she could decide where exactly she wanted the hated release to go.

[valentinexblack]

Black Knights and Vodka

[valentinexblack]

There were moments where Ryder absolutely adored cock, and this was one of them. His taste, his scent, the way he was clearly struggling to not thrust into her mouth… It was like a damn drug and she just wanted more of him. 

Her lips detatched from his cock with an audible pop and she looked up at him, eyes heady with lust. Hands still forcing friction on his shaft, she ordered him to, “Pull my fucking hair, Leo Raske.” She licked up the shaft again and murmured, “You know you want t’.” Ryder swiped her tongue against the head of his cock before dropping her head low on his shaft, swallowing to send his cock to the back of her throat. She let a low moan gravel in the back of her throat, vibrating around the head of his dick in a way that had done very well amongst her clientele in the past. With her nails embedded in his hips as metaphorical anchors she pulled up slightly, allowing for a better angle from which to suck. Fuck, she loved the sound of his moaning. He could barely, it seemed, remember her name. She was half tempted to reach down and play with her clit, but that had too high a chance of distracting from her task at hand. That was, pleasing Leo. 

[bl-oodletters]

He was lost in her ministrations, his hand playing along her hair with a jagged sort of tremble as he held back the more carnal needs of a male.  Attention like this was not easily forgotten and Leo found himself praying for a repeat before the first had even finished. 

The blue eyes found hers upon the demand, darker with a number of emotions prevailed by a dirty happiness.  He practically growled his approval, the normally flippant and carefree Leo replaced by the basic model - the one ruled by simpler things.  Dull nails scraped against her forehead, a tease before seizing the locks as he was asked.  Leo’s grip was almost cat like, tight on moments where she held him deep and releasing on the brief respites. His moans had become heavy breaths, lifting his chest, audible only in the choked way between pleasure and pain with each grip of hers against the sensitive hip.  

“Shit...”  There was nothing more on his tongue but the exclamations and her name, which he rarely used in its base form.  Through the quick build of pleasure Leo had a thought.  She was too far for his fingers, so the boy lifted his leg just slightly, bringing the lim between her legs and applying a very bare pressure for her own sex.  “This ...getting you wet, Black?” he asked between his paints, the sound hoarse and tense as he forced the words.  Muscles strained in his biceps, his neck, flexing against the pressure as he curbed his own orgasm.  He was eager to come but more eager to give.

[valentinexblack]

Black Knights and Vodka

[valentinexblack]

Valentine quickly picked up the bottle of vodka and poured a bit of the liquid over his fresh tattoo before covering the now ink spotted area with a bandaid she pulled from her back pocket. Perhaps this wasn’t the best method of cleaning him, but it did disinfect, and she didn’t want to make him sick.

Thirteen. Fuck, and she thought she was young. Granted, she was. Fourteen wasn’t much better than thirteen, and the circumstances surrounding the loss of her virginity were not something she liked to share. But fucking an older, married couple was not something that was generally suggested for a young, developing lad. Dark as it was, it did give the Scot some insight into the personality of her friend. “I’m no’ judgin’ ya,” she replied honestly. “I’ve fucked married couples before, too.”

If she was being honest, Ryder liked giving blow jobs. She liked hearing the sounds a man made when he was losing control, the way hips bucked and hands tugged. Going down on a girl was fun, too, but the carnal need a man felt could not often be matched by a woman. A red head tilted slightly into his touch, unconsciously eager for his approval. Her lips curled upwards slightly as he caressed her hair, but her eyes were turned downward. Fingers already curled in his pants, Ryder pulled the material back and “revealed the beast” that she had been so curious about. 

Leo actually had a very pretty cock. She shouldn’t have been surprised; his bravado couldn’t have been entirely false. She almost giggled when it popped out of his pants, but remembered that giggling at a man’s penis generally led to a very self-conscious man and she really didn’t really want to lose this chance. 

Her tongue, held thick and strong, pulled up his cock from base to head leaving behind a heavy trail of saliva. After a quick lick to her palm and a grip of the base, she finally surrounded the head of his cock and began sucking. Gently, at first, then gaining pressure as she got more comfortable. Her right hand gripped his hip tight, nails digging in slightly, as her left trailed down his chest, leaving behind angry red lines as further proof that she had been there. She wanted him to feel her touch for hours after she left his room. Tongue protruding slightly so as to avoid using teeth, Ryder began bobbing her head on him, dipping slightly lower with each movement with her hand covering the portion that her lips did not.

[bl-oodletters]

The vodka’s bite was barely felt, Leo’s attention far more focused on the prospect presented along his crotch instead.  He’d grown used to the cock teasing cruelties of the ginger and had a difficult time believing his braggadocios speech had magically swayed her in this moment.  However, as he was more than used to, Leo decided quickly not to think too hard on it. Thinking was not his strong suit after all.  From the back of his throat he laughed, a husky sound. “Learnin so much about you tonight, Black,” he said with a smile.  “Got a lot of the same shit going on, don’t you think?  We both fuck old fucks, like flirting with the idea of a tetanus shot, and enjoy this top shelf vodka.”  He reached for the bottle for a pointed swig, eyes closing with a pleased flutter as his cock was exposed.

Air nipped at the sensitive skin, already engorged with blood from what felt like hours of a plush Scottish ass teasing the area.    The bottle aside, Leo took note of her reaction with the smuggest of smirks, knowing he’d proved a fair point about his cock.  It wasn’t the biggest but it was nowhere near what could be called small, fair in both shape and width.  “And we both like oral sex.” He’d almost said sucking cock but it felt respectively to bring up other penises with his in the room, eager for all attention.  She ran a hand over him once more and he extension of himself twitched, Leo working to keep his lust silent.  He reached to brush the hair from her face hunched some to watch what he considered a momentous moment between them.  Again, he smiled, like she was about to perform a miracle.

She had him with the first dip of her head, abs tightening for a moment as Leonard Raske let out a moan of both surprise and satisfaction.  The sound drew slow from his lips, leaning back against the pillow with his arm gripping his own hair.  “Fuck,” the sound burst from his nose, his entire body personifying the word as Ryder Black sucked his cock in a way he was sure he’d never experienced before her.    His hand was in her hair more desperate now, forcing the digits to pet rather than grasp her hair tight, completely unprepared for the skill despite the senior having bragged such since they’d first met. “F…fuck,” he repeated, hips flexing unintentional which he excused with a quick apology and an ease of encouraging fingers in her hair.  “Jesus, Ryder…” he trailed, losing himself between her lips with a new resolve to return the favor burning far in his mind.

[valentinexblack]

Black Knights and Vodka

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“I think tha’ was Van Gogh, love. Picasso was the guy with the geometric shapes.” She adjusted her hips, settling down so that she was positioned just over his cock again. Schrodinger’s cock, really. It both made up for his personality and was the reason for his personality at the same time. And she wouldn’t know what she was dealing with until she observed the thing with her own eyes.

She went back to grinding, albeit rather softly, against his hips, an eyebrow cocking at his quote. Jesus fuck she needed to get laid. She had fucked that Hockey player a week ago, but he had barely satiated her lust. “Fuckin’ a married woman, Leo? I have no room t’ judge, bu’ I woulda thought your scruples extended at least that far.”

Lithe fingers trailed down his chest, nails raking slightly as Ryder began testing the waters. “I’m glad ya like it,” she told him honestly. “Wouldn’t’ve changed anything if ya didnae, bu’ it does make this a little easier.” 

Her fingers had found home on the waist of his pants, and Ryder dipped a finger beneath the seam. Two fingers. Three. Then, with her other hand, she reached up and grabbed his sharp jar, forcing him to maintain eye contact with her. Fingers released his face and she crept backwards down his body knowing that he wouldn’t look away. “Leo,” she murmured, pulling back the band of his sweats. “I’m gonna suck your cock, now. Try not t’ throat fuck me. I kinda hate that.”

[bl-oodletters]

He sighed, momentarily upset at his lack of knowledge, or if not truly upset he had the decency to look so. “Always get those artists confused,” he said, excusing himself and hoping she’d do the same.   “Arts best when its trippy but I’m hard fucked to remember what belongs to what with all that.”

The soft exhale was tempered, quietly, by a small moan and he smiled at her through eyes that would have preferred being closed.  “You’re judging me,” he spoke with a smirk, voice hungry with unspent desire.  “She was my first, Ms. Valentine.  The woman to corrupt an innocent thirteen-year-old boy.” Leo laughed, though he knew this particular story brought Freddie to frown. “’sides she wasn’t cheating.  The Missus did everything with her Mister.”

A douse of plain mixed with pleasure was his favorite and for a moment Leo wondered how Ryder had known – if she had known, or simply was trying to rile him.  He nodded but said nothing.  They’d have to fuck or he’d have to leave, at this point.  A man could only take so much teasing on a swollen member.  

Already his breathing was heavy, catching at the sudden tug of his chin.  He met blue eyes, brows dipping with question. “What?”  he asked, not annoyed but intrigued.  And then, as if divinely sent, Ryder Black took up a body language he knew all too well and he grinned wide. His cock practically twitched beneath his sweats at the prospect, and certainly at the touch.  He smiled, surprise tempered by his eagerness.  “No throat fucking, got it.” He went to reach for her hair – proving his intent with a gentle caress of the red locks.

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Black Knights and Vodka

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“I’d prefer somethin’ less impressionist, but ya can do wha’ever ya’d like. I won’t even look.” If Ryder was capable of regret, giving Leo free reign would likely become something she regretted very much. As she finished some of the last spots on the small tattoo, his hand settled on her back. Fuck, she was going to end up with a Leo Raske Tramp Stamp. 

“I’m sure ya will, Leo. Ya dinnae seem the type t’ keep it in his trousers for long.” Now he actually had her curious about what he was packing. Was this all just false bravado? Compensation for the fact that he was actually very tiny and had found a way to make up for it with his fingers and mouth? Or did his confidence come from something real? One peek couldn’t hurt. Right? She could stop things if they got too out of control. It would have to wait for her to finish this tattoo, though. Otherwise nothing would get done, and she was interested to find out exactly what he would do to her. 

In response to his call for her to be selfish, she merely laughed. “You’re too witty for your own good.”

She glanced up at his hand, noticing the small tattoo for the first time. “I suppose I can see crows if I squint my eyes.” She did so, and tilted her head just slightly to the right. “Aye, I see it.” After a beat, her eyes turned back down to her work. A tissue wiped the left over ink and blood from his skin, and after just a few more pokes, she popped up on all fours, then pulled her hips up so that she was seated high up on his lap and admired her handy work. “There ya are. What d’ ya think?”

[bl-oodletters]

Were he standing Leo would have shrugged but in lieu he merely hummed.  “Picasso was kinda nutty wasn’t he?  Chopping off his ear and all.” He smiled.  “Seems like the right impression to wear on your back to me.”  History was no strong point of his but already he enjoyed contemplating what brand he could leave on the Scott’s milky skin.

Cheeks sharpened with a pensive click of the lips, Leo fighting between a quip and a laugh. “Not if they let me, nah.”  He winked.  “Big believer in ‘sharing the wealth’ I am.  Seems only fair.”  The in a need to prove himself further, “Plus practice equals perfect.  I think every entity this side of the globe has made that clear,” He laughed.  “Mrs. Heinrich said, and I quote With a gift like that, Leonard, it seems only fair we perfect you.” He laughed harder, reaching around the concentrated red head to pat his Johnson. “Certified pleasure.”

“Witty?”  His surprise at the compliment was clear and almost juvenile in happiness.  Then his eyes narrowed in a smile, “ ‘think that means you like me more than you’re letting on, Ms. Ryder.”

“Not an artist, sorry crows.”  He sat at her mention, an arm around her hip as he leaned past the Ryder to have a look. The tattoo was bigger than he’d expected.  Already there was a pain searing along his hip that felt more like a throbbing bruise through the vodka Adderall cushion his mind sat on.  “That’s pretty fucking good!”  he was genuinely impressed and it showed.  “Hurts like a bitch but I think I like your brand.” He nudged her shoulder with his chin, pupils lustily dilated but admiring of her all the same.

[bl-oodletters]

The Hills || Hal & Meghan

Drug mules were a dime a dozen in the business, flooding in and out with less loyalties than the junkies they served.  Hell, half of the people trafficking drugs for them were junkies, overdosing as often as they managed to score him cash.  It was simply that kind of business, certainly not one Harold Cutteridge would have found lucrative and certainly not enticing.  

Hal Elias, however, thrived in the world of drug and crime.  He’d adapted easily, snorting lines off the silicon breasts of bought women, burning his own concoctions into chemical smoke to test on his mind.  It took care, creating the perfectly intoxicating drug, the kind of thing that got you hooked on one drag.  This was the kind of score Atticus Elias craved of the boy, his only son.  It was Hal’s prerogative to toe with the line - to push his body through that and see just how long it took before this nightmare was sparingly ended. It had worked well enough.  He spent most of his life feeling nothing and the rest of it in violent, chemically addled bursts.  The consequences or lost nights were minimal, merely waking up with a new bruise or broken bone.  

He waited in the private booth of Sinsations probing at one such bruise, a blooming pain in his right shoulder that he’d only showed to Six, who’d groaned at the size. The second of his father’s posse did a decent job seeming like he cared about his ‘young Don’ but Hal knew exactly where his loyalties lay.  It was why he watched the entrance to the club warily, looking out for the shaved head and stern eyes dragging in this new mull.

Six has spoken of her through other mens comments, having met this particular dealer briefly but seeing potential.  He was told she was prettier than most of their other mules, all her teeth still intact and sans the growing marks of long term addictions.  The reason she was coming here was due to a certain expediency. And as he saw the tell-tale, lumbering gait of Six and he slim form beside him – he instantly understood better.

“Well fuck me sideways,” he said with a laugh, blowing a mix of smoke from his joint towards the dark haired girl.  “You weren’t kidding- what a face.”  He smirked, cheek bones sharpening with his amused judgement.  “So you want to sell up, Leggy?”

[valentinexblack]

Black Knights and Vodka

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“O’ course ya can,” she replied. “I wouldn’t hurt ya like this without lettin’ ya do a little damage t’ me, too.” She half wondered what the younger Raske would do if he were given free range of her body. Aside from trying to fuck it, of course. Would she end up with his name tattooed on her arse? He seemed above that, but she wouldn’t know for sure. Not until she gave him the free reign. 

“Sizable?” she repeated. “An’ here I thought ya might take the chance t’ be a wee bit humble.” She could feel his cock against her chest, rock hard already. It was possible, though, to turn him on more. It had to be. Ever the tease, Valentine was happy to help. Adjusting her weight slightly, she pulled her knees up so that her ass was in the air and her back was curved. It actually did give her a better look at the tattoo outline she was nearly finished with. 

“Oh, are ya now? Well, I suppose that’s a good thing. I like takin’.” She lifted her head and looked at Leo, a light frown on her face. “Is it bein’ given to? What’s the proper phrase for tha’? Lazy?” She smirked and dropped her eyes back down to her work. 

“Nah, no’ parts. It’s up t’ the person t’ be good in bed. Even if ya look like a Ken doll down there, a person still has their hands an’ mouth. A lot can be done with jus’ a tongue.” Pencil between her index and middle finger, Ryder reached up and grabbed the vodka bottle from him. “Tha’s enough for ya.” She set the bottle on the ground beside her and begin filling in the small illustration.

There were a lot of tattoo’s covering the body of the young Scottish lass, many of which had a stupid sentimental story behind them. “The firs’ tattoo I ever got was a piece o’ pie. Cherry. It’s on my right ribcage. The work isn’t all tha’ great, bu’ it’s actually one o’ my favourites.” The corner of her mouth shifted just barely as she flashed back to the memory that was the reason for the tattoo. “I was stoned out o’ my mind when I got it. I dinnae think I’ve been tha’ high since then.”

[bl-oodletters]

For the first time since he’d known the red head, Leo raked her figure with something absent of lust.  Mischievous, yes, but not outright lust as he’d displayed every moment before.  There was an ocean of skin that whispered possibilities against a drug induced mind.  “You lettin’ me play Picasso today?” he asked, grinning as he settled on the infamous spot above ass, his hand trailing there with a tight grip.

“Humble isn’t me,” he laughed, “But are you disagreeing?  Cause I promise I can prove my claims.”  He mourned the loss of contact to his groin. Grinding his way through the pain had been as good as not-sex could be for that minute, at least.  Now it was simply watching her perfect behind, wagging the bone before a hungry dog.  The noise escaping his lips was almost a whimper, the deep tone just enough to save from that particular level of pity.  He smiled at her agreement, sweat beading on his skin from a tortured mix of pain and need, but his smile was undying.  “It’s obvious then, isn’t it.  I like givin’, you like takin.  We’re a match made in a California King.  Throw down the white flag, Braveheart, be selfish.”

His face was more amused then a laugh could have noted, brows so high they could have touched the sky. “A fucking chery pie?” he chuckled. “Brilliant.” The virginal metaphor was not lost.   The pointer finger tapped on her hip, spreading it aside to flash the faded birds on his middle finger, wedged between the web of skin.  “Crows were next.  Dunno if they’re actually crows but it’s what I see.  Done by yours truly on the roof at sunrise.  Mighta gotten infected the first week but it was raw.”

[valentinexblack]

Black Knights and Vodka

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“Ya can do tha’ la’er,” she replied. She reached up over his shoulder and grabbed a tissue to wipe up the blood she had drawn from poking him too hard. Eyes lifted from her work as she noticed movement above her. “Dinnae drink too much. You’ll thin your blood an’ make this much harder on me.”

“I can handle it,” she retorted, “I just dinnae want i’ right now.” Truth be told, if his hands continued to roam, she’d probably just give in to his wants and she had really been hoping to make the “unholy trinity” wait to fuck her. Pencil positioned between her fingers, Ryder placed her hands on his hips and positioned her body far lower on his. She laid back down so that the majority of her torso was on his legs. Propped up on her left elbow, her right arm was laid over his lower stomach so that she would have a better view of the spot she was tattooing.

Ryder let out a bark of a laugh at his realization of her bisexuality. “Aye, she. I’s no’ some groundbreaking concept for a women to be in to other women. I’m sure ya ge’ off on lesbian porn all the time.” His reaction was more entertaining than anything. It wasn’t common knowledge around Greene or anything, but there were some people you could just smell bisexuality on. Like Harry. That boy had future threesome written across his forehead in neon lights. Maybe foursome if she could get Luke to play along. She would have assumed that people could tell that she liked girls. Especially with the way she had been looking at Sophie recently. That girl was going to be a fun conquest.

“Tha’ would be a bad idea,” she replied, suddenly solemn. And not just because taking off her clothes for him would likely result in sex that she did not want to have in this very moment. The majority of her tattoos were on her torso, alongside the ridiculous amount of scars littering her body. And in this intimate setting with Leo not being able to take his eyes off her form, questions were bound to follow that she definitely did not want to answer. “Bu’ I can tell ya ‘bout ‘em. An’ ya can le’ your mind make up the rest o’ the… intimate details.”

[bl-oodletters]

“Can I?” Amused and eager, his smile spoke of nothing loose morals and sweet anticipation.  The Scottish transfer had made a show of teasing his prick for far too long.  Now that she was so close to the actual thing, Leo felt himself less keen on waiting like a flaccid gentleman. “My blood’s thick as…well blood,” he gave a light thump to his chest and took another generous sip of the contraband.

A heaved breath of overdone frustration burst from his lips,  tsking at her denial.  “Not right now, she says, hovering over the mans sizable and tortured semi.”  He shifted just barely beneath her, looking for that attention on his undercarriage, his smile shameless and flaunting. “I’m telling you black, I’d rock your world.  Only a few things I’m good at and I promise, this is one.”  For all his flaws and all his selfish needs, this part of the German was not present between a woman’s thighs. “I’m a giver.”

Leo shook his head, “Not shocked, I just didn’t know.”  The fool who would call Leo Raske observant would be just that -a fool and he knew Ryder’s lack of such understanding was merely a lack of care.  Wild and fearless were her words, exactly what made her a presence he longed for. “I get it man, sex is sex.” Hi eyes trained on her lips, “Guy or Girl, your parts don’t make it much better or worse alone.” He shrugged, a hand moving from behind his neck to the side of the bed, flexing his fingers in a pained curl.  “You go ahead and tell me, yeah.  I’ll find a way to see ‘em later.” A hand fell beside her thigh, brushing the jean material, still but not without intent.

[valentinexblack]

Black Knights and Vodka

[valentinexblack]

She had forgotten how difficult teenage boys could be when they thought they might get laid. Fuck. She’d just have to ignore him and move along like she hadn’t been doing anything to him to deserve this reaction. 

She stuck him, very hard, in retort to his sarcastic comment. Rude. He may have already had stick and poke tattoos, but hips were sensitive. As evidenced by the fact that his rough grip on her hips was turning her on more. “That isn’t a special offer for tonight only,” she replied, continuing to poke him – though not so hard – with the needle. “Ya know ya’d give yourself to’ally t’ me if I asked.”

Ryder took a moment and wrapped her fingers around the wrist of the hand currently rubbing wonderfully against her and pushed his hand to the top of the bed, beside his other one. “Tha’s kinda cool. Bu’ I dinnae ken if I would trust a high art kid t’ give me a tattoo.” As she said that, she continued to poke him with her needle, leaving behind a not too bad outline of what she would be coloring in soon.  “I have a crown tattooed on the inside o’ my right thigh, jus’ at the apex. My ex an’ I go’ tattoos together. I go’ a crown for her, an’ she go’ a lion for me.” 

[bl-oodletters]

The sudden prick earned a sharp hiss from the boy beneath her, Leo’s lips raising as he muffled the sound of pain with a twisted smirk.  “I’m beginning to think that I should be sticking you, firecrotch.  I’m bound to be more gentle,” he ground out, though the pain was not so bad as he made it seem.  Vodka was his best sensory duller and he took another long swig, feeling the familiar haze sweep over his mind.  A smarter man would realize he had a problem with these things; sex, drugs, booze - but Leo had never claimed to be smart.

“What?  Can’t handle it,” Leo asked, though her didn’t fight her as she stopped his roam, letting her set the limb where she liked and eventually linking his fingers behind his head.  He’d grown quieter, he only show he was uncomfortable in the tight flex of his biceps, the casual rigidness of his body.  Indeed, the hip was a sensitive area, especially on him.  There was no fat to dull the blow, all bone and skin.  

“Doesn’t seem like such a bad idea when you’re also high. I didn’t feel anything,  I was so gone.”  He smiled at the memory like it was sugar and cream, then glanced down at her hands - the pinpricks of blood smearing with ink as she went about her shape. “Plus the match looks cool, don’t ya think?  Way better than my shitty designs.” He waved a finger in front of her. Despite what others might think, he had plans for the ink on his body.  Vague ones, but still.  “She?” his brows lifted in amusement. “Didn’t know you played in my league, Black!” But his attention flickered to the apex of her thigh, every lustful thought on his mind clear through blue eyes.  “Maybe we should be playing show and tell?”