Jaydee Tram’s Fuckboy

This had to be the start to the most God-awful, smutty story ever.

Iridescent's lips touched mine in a sweet and heavy, tender kiss. Just brushing the skin.

The radiantly optimistic hero on top of me and wouldn't you know, held my wrists tight enough to bruise.

Before jerking up as much as their smooth, dully leering grey confines would allow.

Where he hit his head with a CLUNK. A groan dragged from his lips.

I couldn't help but chuckle.

"Not funny," he muttered and sullen! Hah! The supposed Sun-Child of the Country pouting like a five year old shown up.

Both of us tried to reposition, the press of each of our bodies bringing surges of warmth on humid, burning skin.

There was plenty of sniping and griping on both our ends or I liked to think.

Then again who could I kid? Certainly not him and certainly not my nosy new "associates" about what I did with my free time.

More than anything he was terrified of not touching there or that, ever stricken that he may have impeached his ethical code.

Hair ran wild on his head, I was sure mine was no better.

Breaths rattling fast and loud within our predicament.

"Seems like we have some time on our hands," Eerie ascertained, the smile on his face while strained, a heart thump-thumping so wild I could almost swear it pushed at his maiden modeled tunic, he had of course found some angle where this could be considered beneficial.

Not that he liked to use that word.

Too manipulative.

And too late had I realized my lips moving.

"What was that?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," I said flippant, eyes roving above myself.

"That is why I asked," Eerie confirmed and-- now my heart began to pick up pace.

His expression had turned stony; eyes usually crystal and clear, were now glinting edged steel. Malachite.

The thought came unabated and once it did...

It didn't stop.

The brush of air as his face lunged for my own throat.

Until the tone of his laughter filled mine up instead. My whole body now immersed in the sound which bounced and danced about.

All flowing from that soft-hearted, open-hearted grin. His bunny fronters peeking just out of his lip.

Not for the first time I considered taking him. Taking his body, taking my time with each contour of a jarringly girlish figure.

Where men superheroes hulked and towered in bands of impossible muscle Iridescent was small. Vibrant where they were glaring, beautiful and serene.

The kind of face one would want to see.

When in this exact kind of spot.

Sound had begun doing something odd.

Yes, there'd been the vague presence of air, of dust and of debris. I knew that within this side-turned elevator we'd been tossed aside and flung to the heavens, the support pillars of a pizza place had collapsed.

And that was when, when Iridescent had shielded me.

That was when I had screamed to high heaven.

Screamed like a girl...

And so I took him.

Bullied him into my arms, to the breasts he so abhorred to touch. Only they were pressed into a binder. Just as always.

Seeing them had been a dumb, idiotic, ridiculously unlucky accident.

I wanted to feel him. Feel that he still thought and still bled, still gave me warmth and the silken fur riding hood off his back from when he turned to duty right from the country club stables.

His head cradled to mine turned to an echo chamber where I could again hear my heart. I could hear the pocket of air rush at his ears.

The stick of sweat and coarser, scratching texture of his once majestic hair.

That cracked me inside. And laughter tumbled out.

Hideous and unnerving. Glee tinged in hysteria.

I think I'm hyperventilating.

"He-- hehehe. Hehe? Ahh haha! Vie why are we laughing?" he asked. "Vie, Vie please. Vietnam? Vietnam?"

What could be called happiness cut.

Because, I knew the scariest thing.

I'd stared it, I'd smelled it, I'd choked on it in iron red.

Tears ran down my face, snot dribbled off my nose and into my mouth, stretching across like icky puss.

Once I'd been dumb enough to think the 'Malachite' in old media archives was frightening.

Grisly and disturbed. So unnatural in its form as a hulking, domineering beast.

How it bellowed in agony. How it raged.

How it had snapped so completely.

Eyes set yet unsure whether to kill... or to devour. To consume and savor your bones.

Yet here, in this moment, choking again as my lungs demanded air that was quickly turning stale, I knew the scariest thing.

The scariest thing was glassy eyes the way shiny auburn hair hangs down.

When the glass image of gentle beauty contorts and becomes too natural. Too human.

And too pained.

Salt.

Iridescent tasted of salt.

The hand he'd put over my mouth, hissing so urgently I'd quieted right away. He'd just whipped my bare flesh.

My cheek, he squeezed, digging the nails into my jaw, the shape collapsing, turning inward.

I felt my breath bounce from his skin.

Pick up that God-awful salting musk.

He shouldn't--

"Fuck, fuck, sorry. I'm sorry I just, I shoulda listened in Field Trauma. I know, that was so not the right thing to do."

"Do it again."

"I don't want to," and his voice shook, "if-- if this has to be it..."

I didn't want to think like that.

Trying to speak, only made the darkness, the Malachite eat deeper at my mind.

Turned the darkness thicker and with shape.

"Can it please be, hearing your voice. Let's talk, like, really talk."

It was a tight fit.

Air was slowly dwindling.

Though it was not so sour nor intolerable to my lungs now.

The taste of ash had alleviated from my mouth.

Dryness still pervaded as I had obliged.

To Iridescent who had laid onto my chest. My arm looped around his waist.

And his with the gas bracelets buried in my hair.

As I talked about the farts at work and those who'd clearly lost their last brain cells to side with me, I latched onto that smell.

The smell of orange chicken and burnt wood.