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monaboyd Apr. 16th, 2006 10:26 pm)
georgia-mason.livejournal.com posting in monaboyd Apr. 16th, 2006 10:26 pm)Title: Midnight in the garden(2/?)
Author:![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
georgia_mason
Pairing: Charlie/Shark (Urban ghost story/Lost crossover)
Rating: NC17 - mentions of violence, sex, alot of swearing.
Summary: The night isn't quite over yet for Charlie.
Notes: This is violent and the most explicit thing I've ever written. Don't read if that doesn't sound like your cuppa.
Disclaimer: Based on fiction that is not mine. I make no money from it.
Author:
georgia_masonPairing: Charlie/Shark (Urban ghost story/Lost crossover)
Rating: NC17 - mentions of violence, sex, alot of swearing.
Summary: The night isn't quite over yet for Charlie.
Notes: This is violent and the most explicit thing I've ever written. Don't read if that doesn't sound like your cuppa.
Disclaimer: Based on fiction that is not mine. I make no money from it.
Old Blue is fairly quiet for the rest of the journey, but he's not shy, this one. Fuck, no. Judging by how hard he's pushing himself against me, squishing my side into the car door. We're nice and cosy, like, his thigh beside mine and his warmth against my shoulder. I fancy this fucker has never even heard of the word, 'Subtle.' Nah, not in his vocabulary.
I'm being claimed here, as he just sits and stares straight ahead of us. Once again, this fucker has robbed me of my personal space without me even noticing. A proper little, Artful Dodger, he is. And I don't know what's going to happen when we get back to that empty, cold, room. I'm not sure whether I'm headed to my final destination or not but jesus, man, this cunt's got me aching for a fuck right now. And it deeply disturbs me, how my cock took over from my brain at the control panel amidst everything that's happened tonight. It's funny, how your body reacts after you've just buried a dead body.
We pull up outside the familiar, bleak, red brick building and the snick of the hand break sends a jolt to my chest and aching belly. What the fuck happens, now?
"It's been a pleasure to have your company tonight, Frank. You're owed and you'll be seen to. Now, fuck off." Blue Man shuffles me out the door and I just about catch me old mate, B.A's muffled reply. "Aye boss." And no sooner am I out the car door than Frank has taken off like Michael bloody Schumacher, leaving a trail of dust in his wake. Mad bastard. Total fucking psycho. I miss him already.
I lag behind Blue Man with an awkward, unsure step because he hasn't really asked me to follow him. But, you know what it's like when you've buried a man after a botched H-deal, don't you? Course you do. You'll do pretty much anything to get out of the cold, any road. And I'm fairly sure that I'm meant to follow on in silence like a lap dog. So, I do.
As he reaches up to put the key in the lock, I see summat shiney near his belt. My breath catches. I reckon I'm going to get nice and friendly with the wrong end of that gun at some stage in the evening. I wonder what it's like to get shot. How long will it take me to die? Will the pain be unbearable? What if he shoots me somewhere horrible, like my eye or my stomach? Or fuck, me cock! I adjust myself in my trousers, feeling an uncomfortable, sympathy pain for summat that may or may not happen.
He looks over at me as he pushes the door open and swipes his eyes down to my crotch and back up again. Makes me feel a bit cheap. It was fucking sexy. "You're an eager wee princess, aren't you?" And I wish he would decide whether I'm a Bonnie Prince or a fucking Princess. His smile is so bloody condescending. And, oh fuck, he thinks I was adjusting myself in anticipation of the hard shagging, I know now, I'm about to be given. He must think pretty highly of himself.
I decide to lay me cards out before I cross the 'Threshold of impending doom.' I lean against the brick beside the doorway and I can tell he's no pleased that I didn't go right inside like a good little boy, as he had directed me to. But I need to know for sure. "Are you gonna fuck me and kill me? Or just fuck me?...Or just...kill me? Eh, just so I know for my own...information, like."
He takes on a sudden and nasty expression. No, he's definately not pleased with this. He steps towards me and grabs the back of my neck, forcing my head down so that he doesn't have to bend down when he's whispering in my ear. "You will speak when you're spoken to, bonnie prince. You should count yourself lucky I didn't kick your pretty arse into that pit with our friend back there. You've caused me trouble. Now, get inside and be a very well behaved wee lad for me. You won't be wanting me to repeat myself, will you?"
He's really hurting my neck and his small fingers are digging into my skin. And I'm no closer to knowing if he's going to kill me but I'm willing to do anything for him to loom over me some more. He smells bloody great. Expensive aftershave and summat unique. "No. No. I'll be good." I know, I'm a kinky little slag, aren't I? And I will be good. I'll be a great little goer for him, 'cause if I'm going out, I may aswell go out with a good bang.
I've been involved in some crazy, mad, fucked up shit in my time. I mean, I'm no angel. But tonight's taken the proverbial biscuit. And as I'm lead into an unfamiliar room here, the realisation of what I've done, kind of hits me. Somewhere tomorrow, a mother will look for her son. A girlfriend for her boyfriend. His mates, cousins, his dad, whatever. And I've had a hand in that. Fuck it, I deserve to die. Bring it on, Blue man. You Rangers roaring sexy scumbag. Fuck me dry, hang me from the rafters and put a bullet between my eyes. All of a sudden, I don't care.
This room is much nicer than the fucking basement, that's for sure. I mean, his stereo and t.v etc...it's all top notch stuff. The curtains are a bit 1970's, Fawlty Towersish but it's an alright little corner of the world. It's like a mini apartment, kitchen, en suite. This can't be a flat though, it's too small. And this whole building is his, I'm sure of it.
"Sit down." And it's not a polite invitation from a gracious host. So, I obey the order and slump down on his neat, black, leather couch. I notice that this place is pristine. He probably has a cleaner. Some ripped off, refugee that he treats like shit for a couple o'quid a day.
He comes back from the dark kitchenette with two glasses of brandy. And fuck, I hate brandy but I'm guessing I'm not going to get a second glance at the menu. I take it as it's shoved at me and down it in one go. I slam the glass down and realise that acting like a petulant child might speed things up a bit. Get me fucked and shot in time to catch the last bus to Lucifers finest hotel.
"What the fuck? You'll get marks on my coffee table! That's a fucking antique, that! Watch yourself, you wee shite." He leans down, removes the glass and assesses the non existant damage. "My Uncle Malcom bought me that." It's a nice little glimpse into the man behind the shark and all, but quite frankly I'm getting bored, man.
"We gonna fuck or what?" Fuck the rules. Whatever happens now, happens. It doesn't matter anyway. I'm not afraid anymore. Or, rather, I'm petrified but I just want this over with. "Lets just get on with it, man. For fuck sake."
He looks at me, bafflingly for a second or two before downing his brandy and setting it down carefully. He lunges at me and he's like an animal that's been let out of his cage. I didn't expect to be kissed but his tongue is half way down my throat before you can say, Scotland The Brave. He's sucking on my lips and pinning me to the back of the couch. He pulls back a little, all heavy breathing, lips and forhead against mine to untuck my dirt covered tshirt. He looks me in the eyes, smiling lustfully. "I thought you wanted to get cleaned up, wee prince." He draws my shirt up and over my head.
I give him the patented, cheeky, Charlie Pace crooked grin. I know I'm sexy when I smirk. "I thought you might like me dirty. Wouldn't you like to fuck this dirty boy?" And I am dirty. There's blood on my hands. I didn't kill that fucker but he's dead because of me. I know it. He must have become a liability after I rolled him over. A wounded junkie on their patch. That just wouldn't do. So, bang. No need for an ambulance, just a shovel.
He shoves me back to remove his jacket and allows me to get to work on the buttons of his grotesquely loud, green shirt. "Heh. Aye, wee lad. I want to fuck you nice and dirty. Just aswell I've got rubbers, eh? Can't take any chances with a bonnie junkie prince, like you, eh?" And what is this? Hypothetical questions night? Anyway, I'd love to tell this prick that aside from the debris of toxic chemicals currently washed up on the shore of my veins - I'm clean as a fucking whistle. But I say nothing as he fishes the durex out of his trouser pocket.
He slips the open shirt off, revealing a surprisingly well built chest. My mouth waters at the sight. My lips latch onto a dark, hardening nipple and I suck for all I'm worth. Tastes fucking good. I feel his small fingers run through my hair with an uncharacteristic softness. "Mmm. Good lad." I kiss my way to the other nipple for another taste. His hands run over my shoulders, then and he's pushing me down.
Alright, sweetheart, steady on. I'll get there, if you give me a fucking chance. I kiss down his little happy trail until I get to his belt. I notice the gun is gone. It must be in the kitchen. No doubt I'll be seeing it again soon. I unbutton his belt and open up his trousers. And fuck, he wants this, wants me. I can smell it. Old Blue here is harder than algebra. I was always crap at maths. It's funny, the things you think about when you're about to suck cock.
I don't want to piss about with this for too long. So, after two long swipes of my hot tongue up and down his dripping, velvet shaft, I consume him. It must be good because he gasps, whispers, "Fuck," and fists a hand in my hair. And I know he's going to thrust, going to fuck my mouth good and hard, so I relax my throat for him. Then, he does. Pushes in and out. He tastes sublime and I've got a rocket between my legs just from hearing him moan. My head must look good from this angle. Probably all floppy dark, blonde hair, back and forth. His voice is pure sex.
"Oh god. You've got some fucking mouth, boy. Don't you f'fucking d'dare make me come like this." And what kind of an order is that? He's already stuttering from sheer lust. And I'm Charlie Pace, Hoover of the North! There's no way I won't be able to make him see god with my talented lips around him. So, I let him slip from my mouth with a pop. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
He's so pretty when he's angry.
"I want to get fucked. Please?" I give him a kind of puppy dog look and lay back to remove my own trousers. He seems kind of resigned, then and pushes his own trousers all the way off from around his ankles. He toes off his shiny, black shoes.
I look kind of ridiculous with my cock out and my trainers still on so I get to work untying them. His next remark is typical. "If you'll be wanting prep, you can do it yourself."
He's a fucking gentleman and no mistake, eh? I wonder if I'm going to get breakfast in bed. That's if morning comes at all for me. "Alright."
I lie back as he rips the condom open and suck my fingers into my mouth. He stops to have a good look at that and strokes himself a bit. I begin to prep myself and he rolls the condom on. I want this to hurt. I want this bloke to fuck this night out of my system. "I'm ready."
"Fucking right you are." Fair enough. He looms over me, just how I wanted and spits into his hand. He positions himself at my entrance and I really want this now. I fucking need it. As he begins to sink into me, it hurts like hell. Bloody terrific.
He gasps and I moan. It sounds deliciously filthy and then he's balls deep inside me. In fairness, he gives me a minute to adjust. His forhead is bowed against mine and he looks into my eyes. I see summat, then. He needs this as much as I do and not just for the physical thing. I think he wants to forget this night too. I want him even more now, with those beautiful, hard, green eyes boring into me.
"I didn't shoot that bloke," he gasps as he withdraws and slams back in. I mumble that I don't care before begging him to just fuck me. And I don't care. Not now. Whether it was him or Franky boy, B.A - it doesn't matter. I just want to come.
He obliges me quite nicely, slamming me hard into the arm of the couch. And I'm glad he didn't bend me over because he's beautiful in ecstacy above me like this. I give as good as I get with my legs around his waist and my feet around his arse. I push up as he slams down and we feel like such a perfect fit. He's frantic. "Oh, bonnie price. Fucking, gorgeous lad."
This guy is a fucking enigma, to say the least. One minute I'm getting threatened, the next I'm getting endearments. But they're going right to my cock, so I care little. He's nearing the edge now and fumbles for my cock. Another surprise. "Oh fuck, man. Thank you. Yeah, god. Yeah." And it's not long before my orgasm hits, strong and sure from my legs to my belly and I'm coming with a moan in his small hand.
But, Blue Man, isn't finished yet and he picks up the pace, fucking seven shades out of me. If I'm still alive tomorrow, I'm going to be bloody sore. He leans down and kisses me, a brief suck of my lips in his and comes inside me. He's gasping and saying summat about how I'm a bonnie fucking prince. And, I kind of like that now.
It takes him a while to recover and he's heavy on top of me but I don't mention it. He pulls out quite slowly and I try not to wince too much. He grabs us a few kleenex from the coffee table, his precious fucking antique coffee table, and chucks a couple at me. He starts laughing as we clean up. "At least you're good for something other than ruining my Friday night, eh Charlie, lad? Now, my boy. You and I have more pressing business to discuss. So, get fucking dressed. When I get back, you've got your shit together and are sitting quietly on this couch. Got that?"
I just nod and wonder if I asked him to shoot me in the head, would he oblige.
I'm being claimed here, as he just sits and stares straight ahead of us. Once again, this fucker has robbed me of my personal space without me even noticing. A proper little, Artful Dodger, he is. And I don't know what's going to happen when we get back to that empty, cold, room. I'm not sure whether I'm headed to my final destination or not but jesus, man, this cunt's got me aching for a fuck right now. And it deeply disturbs me, how my cock took over from my brain at the control panel amidst everything that's happened tonight. It's funny, how your body reacts after you've just buried a dead body.
We pull up outside the familiar, bleak, red brick building and the snick of the hand break sends a jolt to my chest and aching belly. What the fuck happens, now?
"It's been a pleasure to have your company tonight, Frank. You're owed and you'll be seen to. Now, fuck off." Blue Man shuffles me out the door and I just about catch me old mate, B.A's muffled reply. "Aye boss." And no sooner am I out the car door than Frank has taken off like Michael bloody Schumacher, leaving a trail of dust in his wake. Mad bastard. Total fucking psycho. I miss him already.
I lag behind Blue Man with an awkward, unsure step because he hasn't really asked me to follow him. But, you know what it's like when you've buried a man after a botched H-deal, don't you? Course you do. You'll do pretty much anything to get out of the cold, any road. And I'm fairly sure that I'm meant to follow on in silence like a lap dog. So, I do.
As he reaches up to put the key in the lock, I see summat shiney near his belt. My breath catches. I reckon I'm going to get nice and friendly with the wrong end of that gun at some stage in the evening. I wonder what it's like to get shot. How long will it take me to die? Will the pain be unbearable? What if he shoots me somewhere horrible, like my eye or my stomach? Or fuck, me cock! I adjust myself in my trousers, feeling an uncomfortable, sympathy pain for summat that may or may not happen.
He looks over at me as he pushes the door open and swipes his eyes down to my crotch and back up again. Makes me feel a bit cheap. It was fucking sexy. "You're an eager wee princess, aren't you?" And I wish he would decide whether I'm a Bonnie Prince or a fucking Princess. His smile is so bloody condescending. And, oh fuck, he thinks I was adjusting myself in anticipation of the hard shagging, I know now, I'm about to be given. He must think pretty highly of himself.
I decide to lay me cards out before I cross the 'Threshold of impending doom.' I lean against the brick beside the doorway and I can tell he's no pleased that I didn't go right inside like a good little boy, as he had directed me to. But I need to know for sure. "Are you gonna fuck me and kill me? Or just fuck me?...Or just...kill me? Eh, just so I know for my own...information, like."
He takes on a sudden and nasty expression. No, he's definately not pleased with this. He steps towards me and grabs the back of my neck, forcing my head down so that he doesn't have to bend down when he's whispering in my ear. "You will speak when you're spoken to, bonnie prince. You should count yourself lucky I didn't kick your pretty arse into that pit with our friend back there. You've caused me trouble. Now, get inside and be a very well behaved wee lad for me. You won't be wanting me to repeat myself, will you?"
He's really hurting my neck and his small fingers are digging into my skin. And I'm no closer to knowing if he's going to kill me but I'm willing to do anything for him to loom over me some more. He smells bloody great. Expensive aftershave and summat unique. "No. No. I'll be good." I know, I'm a kinky little slag, aren't I? And I will be good. I'll be a great little goer for him, 'cause if I'm going out, I may aswell go out with a good bang.
I've been involved in some crazy, mad, fucked up shit in my time. I mean, I'm no angel. But tonight's taken the proverbial biscuit. And as I'm lead into an unfamiliar room here, the realisation of what I've done, kind of hits me. Somewhere tomorrow, a mother will look for her son. A girlfriend for her boyfriend. His mates, cousins, his dad, whatever. And I've had a hand in that. Fuck it, I deserve to die. Bring it on, Blue man. You Rangers roaring sexy scumbag. Fuck me dry, hang me from the rafters and put a bullet between my eyes. All of a sudden, I don't care.
This room is much nicer than the fucking basement, that's for sure. I mean, his stereo and t.v etc...it's all top notch stuff. The curtains are a bit 1970's, Fawlty Towersish but it's an alright little corner of the world. It's like a mini apartment, kitchen, en suite. This can't be a flat though, it's too small. And this whole building is his, I'm sure of it.
"Sit down." And it's not a polite invitation from a gracious host. So, I obey the order and slump down on his neat, black, leather couch. I notice that this place is pristine. He probably has a cleaner. Some ripped off, refugee that he treats like shit for a couple o'quid a day.
He comes back from the dark kitchenette with two glasses of brandy. And fuck, I hate brandy but I'm guessing I'm not going to get a second glance at the menu. I take it as it's shoved at me and down it in one go. I slam the glass down and realise that acting like a petulant child might speed things up a bit. Get me fucked and shot in time to catch the last bus to Lucifers finest hotel.
"What the fuck? You'll get marks on my coffee table! That's a fucking antique, that! Watch yourself, you wee shite." He leans down, removes the glass and assesses the non existant damage. "My Uncle Malcom bought me that." It's a nice little glimpse into the man behind the shark and all, but quite frankly I'm getting bored, man.
"We gonna fuck or what?" Fuck the rules. Whatever happens now, happens. It doesn't matter anyway. I'm not afraid anymore. Or, rather, I'm petrified but I just want this over with. "Lets just get on with it, man. For fuck sake."
He looks at me, bafflingly for a second or two before downing his brandy and setting it down carefully. He lunges at me and he's like an animal that's been let out of his cage. I didn't expect to be kissed but his tongue is half way down my throat before you can say, Scotland The Brave. He's sucking on my lips and pinning me to the back of the couch. He pulls back a little, all heavy breathing, lips and forhead against mine to untuck my dirt covered tshirt. He looks me in the eyes, smiling lustfully. "I thought you wanted to get cleaned up, wee prince." He draws my shirt up and over my head.
I give him the patented, cheeky, Charlie Pace crooked grin. I know I'm sexy when I smirk. "I thought you might like me dirty. Wouldn't you like to fuck this dirty boy?" And I am dirty. There's blood on my hands. I didn't kill that fucker but he's dead because of me. I know it. He must have become a liability after I rolled him over. A wounded junkie on their patch. That just wouldn't do. So, bang. No need for an ambulance, just a shovel.
He shoves me back to remove his jacket and allows me to get to work on the buttons of his grotesquely loud, green shirt. "Heh. Aye, wee lad. I want to fuck you nice and dirty. Just aswell I've got rubbers, eh? Can't take any chances with a bonnie junkie prince, like you, eh?" And what is this? Hypothetical questions night? Anyway, I'd love to tell this prick that aside from the debris of toxic chemicals currently washed up on the shore of my veins - I'm clean as a fucking whistle. But I say nothing as he fishes the durex out of his trouser pocket.
He slips the open shirt off, revealing a surprisingly well built chest. My mouth waters at the sight. My lips latch onto a dark, hardening nipple and I suck for all I'm worth. Tastes fucking good. I feel his small fingers run through my hair with an uncharacteristic softness. "Mmm. Good lad." I kiss my way to the other nipple for another taste. His hands run over my shoulders, then and he's pushing me down.
Alright, sweetheart, steady on. I'll get there, if you give me a fucking chance. I kiss down his little happy trail until I get to his belt. I notice the gun is gone. It must be in the kitchen. No doubt I'll be seeing it again soon. I unbutton his belt and open up his trousers. And fuck, he wants this, wants me. I can smell it. Old Blue here is harder than algebra. I was always crap at maths. It's funny, the things you think about when you're about to suck cock.
I don't want to piss about with this for too long. So, after two long swipes of my hot tongue up and down his dripping, velvet shaft, I consume him. It must be good because he gasps, whispers, "Fuck," and fists a hand in my hair. And I know he's going to thrust, going to fuck my mouth good and hard, so I relax my throat for him. Then, he does. Pushes in and out. He tastes sublime and I've got a rocket between my legs just from hearing him moan. My head must look good from this angle. Probably all floppy dark, blonde hair, back and forth. His voice is pure sex.
"Oh god. You've got some fucking mouth, boy. Don't you f'fucking d'dare make me come like this." And what kind of an order is that? He's already stuttering from sheer lust. And I'm Charlie Pace, Hoover of the North! There's no way I won't be able to make him see god with my talented lips around him. So, I let him slip from my mouth with a pop. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
He's so pretty when he's angry.
"I want to get fucked. Please?" I give him a kind of puppy dog look and lay back to remove my own trousers. He seems kind of resigned, then and pushes his own trousers all the way off from around his ankles. He toes off his shiny, black shoes.
I look kind of ridiculous with my cock out and my trainers still on so I get to work untying them. His next remark is typical. "If you'll be wanting prep, you can do it yourself."
He's a fucking gentleman and no mistake, eh? I wonder if I'm going to get breakfast in bed. That's if morning comes at all for me. "Alright."
I lie back as he rips the condom open and suck my fingers into my mouth. He stops to have a good look at that and strokes himself a bit. I begin to prep myself and he rolls the condom on. I want this to hurt. I want this bloke to fuck this night out of my system. "I'm ready."
"Fucking right you are." Fair enough. He looms over me, just how I wanted and spits into his hand. He positions himself at my entrance and I really want this now. I fucking need it. As he begins to sink into me, it hurts like hell. Bloody terrific.
He gasps and I moan. It sounds deliciously filthy and then he's balls deep inside me. In fairness, he gives me a minute to adjust. His forhead is bowed against mine and he looks into my eyes. I see summat, then. He needs this as much as I do and not just for the physical thing. I think he wants to forget this night too. I want him even more now, with those beautiful, hard, green eyes boring into me.
"I didn't shoot that bloke," he gasps as he withdraws and slams back in. I mumble that I don't care before begging him to just fuck me. And I don't care. Not now. Whether it was him or Franky boy, B.A - it doesn't matter. I just want to come.
He obliges me quite nicely, slamming me hard into the arm of the couch. And I'm glad he didn't bend me over because he's beautiful in ecstacy above me like this. I give as good as I get with my legs around his waist and my feet around his arse. I push up as he slams down and we feel like such a perfect fit. He's frantic. "Oh, bonnie price. Fucking, gorgeous lad."
This guy is a fucking enigma, to say the least. One minute I'm getting threatened, the next I'm getting endearments. But they're going right to my cock, so I care little. He's nearing the edge now and fumbles for my cock. Another surprise. "Oh fuck, man. Thank you. Yeah, god. Yeah." And it's not long before my orgasm hits, strong and sure from my legs to my belly and I'm coming with a moan in his small hand.
But, Blue Man, isn't finished yet and he picks up the pace, fucking seven shades out of me. If I'm still alive tomorrow, I'm going to be bloody sore. He leans down and kisses me, a brief suck of my lips in his and comes inside me. He's gasping and saying summat about how I'm a bonnie fucking prince. And, I kind of like that now.
It takes him a while to recover and he's heavy on top of me but I don't mention it. He pulls out quite slowly and I try not to wince too much. He grabs us a few kleenex from the coffee table, his precious fucking antique coffee table, and chucks a couple at me. He starts laughing as we clean up. "At least you're good for something other than ruining my Friday night, eh Charlie, lad? Now, my boy. You and I have more pressing business to discuss. So, get fucking dressed. When I get back, you've got your shit together and are sitting quietly on this couch. Got that?"
I just nod and wonder if I asked him to shoot me in the head, would he oblige.
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This could be hard to get into, but by giving Charlie a strong dose of self-disgust, along with his horniness, it really works. Oh, and being a "kinky little slag" also helps. *S*
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Tastey this. Verrah tastey.
I like where this is going. :) Good job!
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You are far to kind to the likes of me, dear, but I thank you. :) I think, however, you've got me beat. ;)
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I don't know why I like that line so much, but holy crap I did.
dakfjald;fjaldkrejrqwnr. Jeez, and I had just pulled myself together. And now I'm a fucking puddle of goo again! Holy crap that was hot. This shark might just be human. I never wanna hear you say you can't write smut again because OMG that was soooooooo hot, like I'm just about dead and gone hot. And I love the way you write Charlie, you've got him down pat!
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Your icon, btw, niiiiice.
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Thanks, I saw the pic and was like, 'woah, gotta make a dirty icon'. I think my brain is permanently messed (oh, ok fucked) up. LOL.
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From: (Anonymous)
Love This Story
I'm sorry to be anonymous but I don't have a clever screen name or cool icons like you.
I love this story - have never seen Urban Ghost Story but your Shark is a major ball-busting, kick ass and take names meanie. Can't wait to see what happens next!
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Re: Love This Story
From: (Anonymous)
Love This Story
I'm sorry to be anonymous but I don't have a clever screen name or cool icons like you.
I love this story - have never seen Urban Ghost Story but your Shark is a major ball-busting, kick ass and take names meanie. Can't wait to see what happens next
I'm sorry to be anonymous but I don't have a clever screen name or cool icons like you.
I love this story - have never seen Urban Ghost Story but your Shark is a major ball-busting, kick ass and take names meanie. Can't wait to see what happens next.
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"And no sooner am I out the car door than Frank has taken off like Michael bloody Schumacher, leaving a trail of dust in his wake. Mad bastard. Total fucking psycho. I miss him already." - I cracked up aloud at this.
"Old Blue here is harder than algebra." - Dying laughing
"And I'm Charlie Pace, Hoover of the North! There's no way I won't be able to make him see god with my talented lips around him." - I've lost it.
I have to say that the way that Charlie continues to remark on how it's funny what he thinks of when he's burying a dead body or suck cock reminds me of a song by Tori Amos, "Me and a Gun" in which she repeats what she thought of when she had a gun pointed at her. Kind of sobering, so I needed the comical self-talk. I look forward to more. I'm intrigued to see where this is going.
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Cheers again.
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It's funny, the things you think about when you're about to suck cock.
LOL! Bloody great stuff.
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Secondly, cheers for the lovely comment:) I'm glad you enjoyed it. Thanks.