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"Castling and Promotion" - A Final Fantasy VII OC Roleplay
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Topic Started: Dec 18 2009, 05:17 PM (812 Views)
Rinakins
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Self-proclaimed OC abuser. ....ilu Pawn.
Blahblahblah. Roleplay.
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Rinakins
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Self-proclaimed OC abuser. ....ilu Pawn.
There was something... odd in the air. It wasn't the snow, of course. That wasn't odd at all. Different, but not odd. Pawn couldn't really place his finger on it. It felt almost like the air during the final moves of a long chess match. Long and tense, with a sort of eager excitement. To see who would win, and who would lose. But Pawn didn't feel excitement at all. That was the thing. That was what made it so odd.

"Heeeey. Buuuddyy... you still with me?"

The boy was snapped from his dreary mind thoughts. He was sitting on his own, barely used, bed. Having returned only two hours ago from a 'dealing', as they had begun to be called, he had taken the time to do nothing but lay about until it was time for another one. One that would actually, for once, take him off of Shinra territory. "Y-Yeah?" His flushed face ducked up from it's hunched over place om his shoulders. Above him, looming with a bit of curiosity in them, were two frighteningly blue eyes. They reminded him not of water or the sky, or of SOLDIER, but of a very vibrant fish he had once seen.

"I saaaaid... Are you free tonight?" It was Volt, obviously. He was the only one with eyes like that. They always seemed to have a hidden excitement in them.

Pawn's head shook. He was never free on Friday nights. Hadn't been for quite a long time. The minute training was done he was whisked away to a broom closet, or an office, or a bunk bed, or in the rare case, under a desk. It was just how things were nowadays. And unfortunately, the small social life he had been starting was suffering because of it.

"Ahh.. Damn. Ya know, you'd think you'd get a day off from all the fuckin', you know?" The rough hands that seemed to constantly reside in Volt's pocket's lifted to his spiky hair, running through. "Bah.. Guess I'm off for another lady scouting night with Little Red."

Pawn smiled. Lady Scouting. That usually entailed both Volt and 'Little Red', otherwise known as Hood, going to a bar, getting completely hammered, and picking up chicks. The chicks would always end up with Hood, and Volt would hurry off and say he got a nice little call from a piece of meat across town. No one was any the wiser. Someone got laid, and someone jacked off to sleep.

"I'm sorry..." Pawn said softly, rising. "I mean... I would... but... and you know..." It wasn't something he enjoyed, it was just something he did. Something as natural as waking up. He was told where to go, and he went.

"Pfft. No worries. Let's see if I can get him drunk enough to mistake me for a chick." Volt laughed, slapping Pawn's shoulder, and nearly pushing the boy over. "When you gotta be off?"

"...Five minutes ago." Pawn blushed, glancing up at the chocobo themed clock hanging above their door.

"Perfect! I'll tell Hood to meet me at Salty's, and I'll walk you to....?"

"It's a... motel... this time.." A plastic key card was pulling out from his pocket.

"Well, I suppose I'll drive you then!" Volt's wolfish grin grew and he ushered the smaller boy out.

Pawn wasn't really sure how Volt had acquired a truck, or why he thought going sixty while the roads were covered in snow, but he found it better to keep his trap shut as they zoomed along, for fear of his dinner, and anything else he happened to swallow earlier today, coming out.

It was a good fifteen minutes later when the truck came slamming to a stop, sending the poor infantryman rocketing forward from his place on the cologne scented seat. "Alright! Here we are~!" Volt's grin was electric as he turned to Pawn, his fingers tapping along the wheel. As Pawn maneuvered his way from the seat, onto the step helper, and then finally onto the snowy ground, Volt did he usual motherly peckings. "Now remember, Phone. If he hurts you in any way- I mean, it has to be a creaper if he wants to meet outside the barracks. Or maybe he's married. Or in a relationship. Or maybe he wants your organs -You aren't completely defenseless. You ARE in the army. Annnd.. don't get wasted, don't do drugs... don't... I don't know..."

Pawn listened as usual, fiddling with his jeans. "Ah... Okay... I hope you get laid, Volt.."

The man burst into another round of laughter. "Ahaha, Maybe if I can suck in my cock. Peace, buddy." And the truck door was slammed, and then he was gone, in a whirl of snow.

So what now? Pawn didn't know himself. He wasn't used to meeting in random motels. Most people had grown accustomed to seeing him tucked away in other's beds, or in the rare case he was passed to a higher up, they always went to their apartment. Was this man really going to meet him and kill him? It wouldn't be to bad, Pawn supposed. He had to go somewhere. His ponderings had brought him to the door with the silver markings 42, and with a sigh, the boy slipped the card in, and pushed the door open.

No one was there. That was awkward. The bed was there waiting patiently, as it always was for any meeting. Pawn shrugged off the jacket, hung it on a chair, and stared. It was quiet. There was a concrete patio to his left, a bathroom straight before him, and then a little kitchenette that would never be touched. Pawn inhaled, and then exhaled.

The bed was foamy, the blankets were scratchy. But Pawn settled himself cross legged in the middle of it all. The man he was awaiting for would arrive soon.. just how soon was the question.
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Ziggy Pasta
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He wasn't aware that he had been bouncing his leg for a good five minutes. And in those five minutes, the bartender came, served them their rounds, came back when the two men beside him were already finished with their own, dropped off a second round, and then came back to see why he still hadn't even touched his first.

He sat and watched as the liquid quivered in his glass as he bounced his leg, taking an odd note of how it left a clear film along the glass as the rest of the liquid settled; it was almost oily. He must have ordered something with a strong proof for that effect. He didn't even remember what he had ordered to begin with.

“It's whiskey.”

“What?” Ratcliff looked up from the counter and to the man who sat beside him.

“You just asked what you had ordered. It's whiskey. Are you all right, Ratcliff?”

Ratcliff looked to Elici, blinking several times. He hadn't realized that he even had said anything to begin with. All he knew was that his mind was strangely clear of any thought, so for his mouth to say anything was a bit of a surprise for him, in that state. “Fine, yeah.”

“You realize that Graves is going to out-drink you if you don't start now.” Elici tilted his head back and slammed down his own jigger of whiskey.

Ratcliff stayed silent. He was late. Very late. He was at the point where he needed to make a decision now. He glanced up at the clock, then back down to his drink in front of him. He could stay with his friends, or he could leave and help the ache go away. He downed the whiskey in a swift movement, then winced at the strength. It was strong. “I...gotta go.”

“What? What for? We just got here.”

“I forgot...I needed to be somewhere, yeah.” Ratcliff stood, passing Elici twenty gil for the drinks he hadn't even had a chance to order yet. “I'll see you guys later. When Graves pulls himself away from the woman in the corner, tell him I said 'sorry', yeah?” He ignored Elici's stammering of confusion and protest as he began to walk out. He was so busy staring down at his boots as he walked out, he nearly bumped into a pair of men walking into the bar. He could hear one of them talking about picking up some 'chicks' and the other just half-halfheartedly agree. He left the bar.

Salty's. He always hated the name of that place.

~*~*~

And he hated the sound that the fluorescent motel sign made as the letters flickered above him. He looked up with a frown, watching as the snow fell before the brightly lit sign, illuminating each flake with its red hues. He wanted to think that he hated snow as well, but that would have been a lie.

And if he thought that he could be strong, and that he could handle the loneliness, that would have been a lie, as well. It was too hard. He was a needy person. He couldn't handle the stress that being in love with a married man brought upon him, and that was all the more to hate himself.

He hated a lot of things.

But he loved a lot of things as well. And that was enough to hate.

He walked up the icy steps and passed a vending machine on the way. He stopped, frowning at that as well, as it had made a similar electrical buzz as the motel sign had. He pulled out some gil and deposited it into the machine. The beep of the keypad as he entered the number struck through him, reminding him of the choice he was about to make.

It wasn't like he wasn't used to this sort of thing. He had grown up in the business with his older brother. When his parents were no longer around, money had to come from somewhere. Their youth didn't allow them for traditional jobs, and up in the snowy mountains, there wasn't much that they could do. It seemed that their choices were limited in such a small town, and that everyone else had a place there except for them. How could they be useful? How could they be needed?

The condoms dropped down from the vending machine and they were quickly pocketed next to the gil he had for the payment, and the key card to the door where a part of his past was waiting for him in the form of a man. He sighed to himself, watching as the warmth of his breath manifested in the air in front of the numbers '42' on that door.

He could stop now. It wasn't too late. This person didn't know who he was, and he didn't know who they were either. It wouldn't be awkward. Why should he care if he wasted this person's time? It wasn't like they were friends, or real lovers. It was a business transaction, and that was it. He could turn around and head back to the Shin-Ra building now without consequence. He could return back to living day by day with Graves and Elici.

He could go back to the painful ache in his heart when he smiled with love at Elici, and nothing but a simple smile was returned.

The key card was removed from his pocket and he watched as the little green light lit up, and the lock disengaged.

He entered the room and shivered. It was just as cold in there as it was out in the snow, and just as dark. He turned on the light when he saw a form in the darkness, but immediately dimmed it. He was desensitized to having sex with the lights on or off. It didn't matter to him, but then again he had never been the one paying for this sort of thing. He couldn't hide from his shame in the darkness, so might as well have a bit of light on.

“Uh...sorry...I'm late, yeah?” He turned back around from the light switch and froze. There sat a man – no, a boy, significantly younger than he in the middle of the bed. Did he have the right room? He looked down at the key card slowly, and realized it wasn't programed for any other room but this one. He looked back up to the strawberry-blond with a dubious look, and spoke very awkwardly. “A-are you...? This...isn't right. You...you're just a kid...”
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Rinakins
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Self-proclaimed OC abuser. ....ilu Pawn.
"Where's Sparky?"

"Pfft. Like I fuckin' know. She said something about flying machines and took off last night."

Ah, the constant talk about last night. That was how nights at the bar always started, Volt learned. They arrived, and as they entered, they chatted about last night. And it always ended up with Hood making obscene sexual gestures. Right now he was pelvic thrusting his way to the door, and Volt couldn't help but whimper inside his head. He really wanted to be between those legs.

Wishful thinking. Hood was straight as a metal rod, it seemed. And as much as people said metal rods could be bent, this one seemed to be reinforced with what ever the hell kept things from bending these days. It was unfortunate. Volt would ride on that rod any day. He had decided that when he was thirteen, and Hood was fifteen. So close in age, but ranking far differently in the experience factor. Hood had come bursting into his house one day, and was insisting that he had discovered something new and amazing. He had dragged Volt to his room and explain, in serious detail, something a girl in his class had done to him. Volt had found it all very nauseating, THAT part of your body was SUPPOSED to be for guys only. But he played along, and after Hood had left, Volt realized he wouldn't mind so much if it had been Hood dropping to his knees. After that, he had promised himself that the only person he would ever let near, was Hood.

It was a shame he always kept his promises.

After that, they became known as Hood, the guy who got a different girl every night, and Volt, the guy who had a list of girls who always wanted more, tucked away in his little black book. This was a lie, how ever. The only girl who ever seemed to come back was his hand. And he was okay with that.

"Hey. Vlaaaaaad."

"Don't call me that." Volt snapped back into reality, staring at the piece of meat infront of him. Hood had decided to wear the perfect form fitting articles of clothing. Able to make any girl, and Volt, fall face first into his lap.

"Fine. I said go get us some seats. But I gotta go grab a honey's number. I saw her waggling her hips at me." The red head shot the man and thumbs up and disappeared into the crowd. Volt was left there, standing in the midst of it all, wondering why he still tried.

It took about two minutes, and a rather awkward grind with a lady to earn a smirk of approval from Hood, to get to the bar. He settled down next to a rather respectable looking guy, and hung his head. The bartender slide over, and Volt, scratching at his tattoo, ordered a himself a drink of the strongest thing the guy had. If he wasn't going to get lucky, might as well get drunk.

-&&-

Pawn waited. And waited. And waited. He waited in the dark, in the cold. He would have gotten up to get his jacket, or to wrap the starchy blankets around himself, but... he was wary to. The man could come at any moment, and as Crim, the man who headed the business dealings had told him, he had to always seem relaxed, and calm with his surroundings. And soon, wouldn't the surroundings be this cold darkness? Why bother warming himself now? So the boy did nothing but fiddle with his jeans, waiting. He had almost given up, Volt and complain that he had been stood up. At least then, he could've maybe gone and saw a movie, for once. But then, there was the sound of feet from outside, and the jingle of the door handle. It was time to see if the man who had called him really was here for his organs.

The room flooded with light from the hall, and then it was gone. The lights were switched on, and then they were gone too, dimmed by the man. There was a very pregnant paused, and then finally he turned to him. Pawn was so relieved to see that the man held no butchers knife. "I-It's okay... I was... late too..." He said softly, his voice barely heard.

And then the second question was posed, and Pawn's eyes widened. This wasn't the first time he had been questioned for his age. There had been a time when a man had requested him, freaked out, and then had Crim and him reported. It took a lot of passing around to get them out of it, but they did. He just hoped that wouldn't happen this time. Crim had not been at all pleased. "No! I-I mean..." Pawn paused, raising himself up to sit on his knees, like a nice little boy. Crim had said it was a much more appealing pose than sitting cross legged. "This is right... You ordered me..." Pawn's eyes slowly adjusted to the light. "I'm what you paid for... S-sorry..."

And finally, he could make out his guest. It wasn't a murderer, as far as he could tell. In fact, he recognized the man, how ever distant. Pawn had only seen him once or twice in the Chow Hall, and the Barracks, but the face was still there. If he remembered.. the boy was always with two other men, who had always seemed to be at each others throats. None of them had ever been customers. There was a first for everything, however.

"H-How would you like t-to do this...?" Pawn asked, as he asked every time.
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Ziggy Pasta
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Graves had only been in the bathroom not two minutes, and when he exited, stumbling a bit, he could see how a simple two minutes could change the course of the night.

He had worked so hard for this one – she was a tough nut to crack. A pretty little thing, with breasts that seemed to bounce beneath her camisole top as she moved, and an ass with firm muscles that looked like she could pop the top off a bottle of beer between her cheeks if she clenched hard enough.

Beer and women – that's all he needed to survive. Well, and the occasional cigarette.

But now that woman that he spent a whole whopping five minutes winning over with his gruff charm, was pressed against the wall and being grinded against by a redheaded man. He'd like to say he couldn't believe it, but she looked like an easy catch to begin with. He liked the easy catches – they were...easy.

“'Scuse me, bro.” Graves approached the two and watched as the woman gave him a rather devious smile as she wiggled her hips against the man's crotch. He lifted an eyebrow at the woman as she continued to hold eye contact with him, as if saying, 'I could be doing this to you later on tonight if you put up a good fight for me.'

How Graves loved a challenge.

“Seems to me that yer dry-humpin' the wrong lady.” He crossed his arms over his chest as the man seemed to ignore him. The woman's smile became wider as she tossed her head back as if she were having an orgasm as they connected. He liked that. He could be the one that made her do that. “'Ey, bro, I know ya ain't deaf, and I know ya ain't blind. So how 'bout ya peel yerself away from my woman, and go get drunk at the bar?” Graves waited – surprisingly patiently – for the man to respond. His arms never uncross his chest, however.

~*~*~

Ratcliff watched as the young boy sat up on his knees, looking as if a program suddenly went off inside his mind, and his body automatically shifted into 'work mode'. He was cute, perhaps really cute, and Ratcliff found himself staring at him with a combination of disbelief, intrigue, and shame. How could such a young boy be involved in something like...

He knew all too well how.

“H-how?” He shook his head at the boy, finding himself unable to even approach him. “How would I like...” This wasn't right, in more ways than one. “W-well, uh....I-I think there might have been a mistake, yeah? I uh...wasn't expecting your...type.” He tried to smile warmly, but he feared that it might have come across as awkward, and a little creepy. “I uh...u-usually um...bottom, yeah.”

He finally found himself able to move, and he walked over to the bed and took a tentative seat on the edge. He didn't bother to remove his coat, or even attempt to look as if he were planning on getting comfortable. He had previously convinced himself that going through with this would be a good distraction, that it would help ease any churning confusion or doubt that he had with himself and his feelings for Elici. This would have helped settle those feelings, at least for the time being, and he could live with that.

But that was until he walked in, and saw the boy of maybe fifteen or sixteen, sitting on the bed politely, waiting for his orders, and his work to get started. For Ratcliff to go through with something like that with this boy – it was all too familiar, and all too painful for him. He knew what it was like doing this for a living at that age, he knew what it was like to work this sort of job, and to be talked about and treated like a piece of property. To be 'paid' for, and owned. He himself had asked those questions many times, and it was as if Ratcliff knew what the boy was going to say to him before he even opened his mouth to speak.

'How do you want this?', 'Am I to your liking?', 'My body is here for your pleasure.', 'I hope I am what you expected.' - all phrases he had been taught to say in his past to put on an act for his clients. They never got enough of that boyish, innocent charm, and now Ratcliff could see how appealing it was, as he stared at the boy sitting so obediently on the bed.

So he couldn't bring himself to say 'Let's get started'. Instead, he found himself peering at the boy with what he hoped was a look of understanding and compassion, and not – once again – creepy.

“Listen, yeah? I...think that...we shouldn't go through with this. You're so...young, yeah?” He watched as his words didn't even seem to phase him, as if he was more than aware of his age, and of his situation. He probably heard that enough in his career, as Ratcliff had heard that more than his fair share of times when he worked. And he waited for the boy's answer, even though he knew what he was probably going to say. He, himself, had had to say it plenty of times to get the job done.
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Rinakins
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Self-proclaimed OC abuser. ....ilu Pawn.
Hood knew today was going to be a good day. He had his wingman, he had his hair, and he had his cock. All was in order. Volt was quiet as he normally was, but Hood had always assumed he was busy getting his mojo in order, if you will. There had to be a special mojo that kept girls at his beck and call- literally. And if it took the guy a moment of zoning out to get his game on, Hood was okay with that. Although, it was a little annoying when the guy decided to do it while he was talking.

"Hey. Volt. Don't tell me the garage fumes are getting to ya."

No response.

"ZappaZappa?"

No response.

"Hey. Vlaaaaaaaad."

That did it. The electric looking man snapped back into reality. Vlad. It was a better name then Hood, he thought. But no. There was something about the name that drove his friend up the wall. Which was why he used it as often as he could."Fine. I said go get us some seats. But I gotta go grab a honey's number. I saw her waggling her hips at me." And he shot Volt his famous thumbs up before trailing after that delicious ass.

She was a tease. Hood knew that from the moment he had laid eyes on her. She was playful. She was the kind of girl who wrapped you around her finger, and then asked you to fetch her purse so she could leave. Without you. Hood liked those girls. Especially the ones with the lovely assets. They weren't as easy as the girls half sloshed against the bar table, but they weren't like the girls asking you to slip a fifty up their ass, either. And with the way her hips swung like a pendulum, Hood knew he wanted this girl.

And then his phone rang.

He stopped in the middle of all the people and looked down. Sparky. And the girl was back. He thought for a moment. What did he want? A girl with pretty fucking memorizing hips, or a girl, who looked a bit more like a guy, and had the body of the skeleton. Hood's pants decided for him, and the hovering thumb was lowered onto the button with the little red phone on it. Sparky could wait.

"Sup, love." He purred a moment later, finding the girl waiting for him against the wall. It was then all other senses were turned off. This girl was everything, and he'd let her know that. The jean covered hips rubbed slowly against her, pushing her against the wall. She said nothing. Hood didn't mind, he liked his women seen and not heard. Chicks with big gobs were a turn-off. They're voices pulled away from the moment.

And after how ever long he was there, fucking the girl with his eyes, there was a disturbance in the air. Her eyes trailed away from his, there was a voice, and then he snapped out of it.

Hmmm? His woman? Pssh. "Sorry.. Maybe if you were taking better care of her..." Hood trailed off and snaked an arm around the small waist. "She wouldn't need to have to come to me, hm?"

-&&-

Pawn was... scared. Not because he thought this man would take his organs, as Volt had unkindly thrown out there, but because he didn't seem... excited about this. Which meant it might not happen. Which meant unhappy Crim. Which meant a lot of things. The man wasn't coming closer. Maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he'd turn around and just leave. Unfortunately not...

How? Pawn didn't even know. Its not like there was anything there for him. He wasn't paid. There was nothing waiting for him after this. The man would finish and then leave. And he would wait until four AM, when Volt would notice his bunk was empty, and then he would send a taxi. Who would want that? Pawn wouldn't have, he realized sadly. He wouldn't have wanted that before the army. But now he just didn't care.

The man was looking at him, smiling. It seemed... not creepy... but there was something he couldn't make out. An emotion that he didn't know existed, almost. "O-Oh..." He stuttered out. "I-I'm sorry. I-I.. don't think... m-m-mistake..." He was the only thing there. He was the only one Crim provided. How could there be a mistake? Pawn felt a very light flush dance on his cheeks, feeling very embarrassed. He couldn't top. He just couldn't. This wasn't going to work and he was going to be in trouble.

He didn't know what to say. He said nothing. Pawn was busy mentally beating himself for being so small, so weak. If he was a little bigger, he could do what the man asked. He could avoid the tongue lashing he'd get after this. If he was.. well... older.

Aha, there it was. His age wasn't always brought up. But when it was, it was brought up as a scapegoat. An excuse for men who had suddenly gotten cold feet. Pawn's nervous heart fluttered again. He couldn't let this man go. Crim wouldn't be pleased. "N-No. Really. P-Please. I'm not that young..." Pawn pleaded softly, inching a little closer to the man. "I'll be good for you... I'll d-do my best..."
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Ziggy Pasta
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Was he serious?

Was this man actually fucking serious?

Graves looked the smaller man over, and then looked down to the large arms that were slowly beginning to uncross over his chest. One of his arms looked bigger than one of the man's thighs. It wasn't of course, but to Graves he was the biggest man alive.

And if only that woman knew that she would possibly be missing out on the biggest man alive if she chose to warm the bed of this twig of a man tonight, and not his. He wasn't about to let such a beauty run off with such an unimpressive man – it would be a travesty, and a waste. He could be the one grinding against her – without the restrictions of jeans – and he could be the one to be putting that marvelous expression on her face that he would probably just forget come morning time. But for however long the night would last, he would remember that face, and nothing but.

He glanced back to Elici who was just looking at him with a look of helplessness. He was a smart fellow, and by now had learned to keep his distance when Graves was on the prowl for the woman of the night. He had felt a bit bad for leaving him behind on occasion, but usually Elici had Ratcliff to keep him company if Graves were to disappear from the bar with one hand waving down a taxi, and the other down the tight skirt of some broad.

He momentarily wondered where Ratcliff was, as his seat had been taken by some other man, and the only thing keeping Elici company now was a few drinks. He looked content enough, and at times seemed to enjoy solitude, so long as it meant solitude with the occasional drink. He was proud – not in the least bit needy, with having the independence and will of a true man. He seemed like the type to walk down the street in the rain with a closed umbrella, reserving it for someone else who he might pass by that looked as if they needed it more than he.

Graves watched as the bartender set down a new drink in front of Elici, and he passed it to the man next to him with a brotherly smile.

Elici'd be fine for the night without him.

“Trust me, bro, this lady'll be taken care of, so long as ya get yer hands off 'er.” He shot the woman a wink, and received a very sultry smile from her. He had hoped that he managed to pull the wink off, as Elici was the one who could pull it off most naturally of the three, although he only reserved it for his wife, and the occasional taunt to Graves. It always looked so suave when he did it, so Graves was quite happy when the woman responded to it with such a smile.

And he hoped that that suaveness that he managed would transcend to the man as intimidation. He waited for him to back down.

~*~*~

And there it was.

It flowed from the young boy's mouth like an instinctive breath. It was so natural; it was so easy that it almost sounded monotonous and detached from any sort of emotion he probably should have had. He was programmed, Ratcliff could easily tell, and the words that he spoke no longer meant a thing to him anymore. It was just part of his job.

It was like a bagger at the grocery store asking if a customer wanted paper or plastic. The bagger didn't actually care which one was chosen; it mattered not. Their life would be in no way made better if the customer chose paper over plastic. In no way would it affect their own individual life after the moment was over and done with, and their purchases were mindlessly placed inside whichever they chose. The only thing it affected at that single moment in time was whether their hand would move to the counter shelf with the paper bags, or the hooks with the plastic bags. After, it all traveled the same predetermined path that was laid out even before the customer made their choice. It would just do its job, and continue on.

So for the boy to say, 'I'll be good for you. I'll do my best.' only meant he had to say that, and that it was all just part of his job.

And yet, when he spoke, Ratcliff could almost make out a hint of pleading in his voice, and then he realized that there would be consequences to be had if the boy failed in his job. Ratcliff had never had to experience that. He and his brother were their own bosses, and no one got angry at them, or punished them if they let a client slip away with cold feet. No one but themselves, and Ratcliff would have liked to have thought that there could be nothing worse than that, but it would just be naïve of him to think so.

He thought about just giving the boy the money and walking away.

But there was something stopping him, and he couldn't exactly tell what it was. He wasn't sure if it was just for the fact that he had his own strong needs and wants, or if there was something more. He looked into the eyes of the boy and smiled; he knew this one wasn't creepy.

“You are young, yeah. Too young to have experienced what you probably have already.” He pursed his lips together, feeling the body heat from the boy against him in the cold room. It felt nice, and wasn't helping him forget his carnal urges. “In good conscience, I...don't think I can go through with this, yeah. I-I can still pay you, though. I'd imagine that you would get in trouble if this fell through. I wouldn't want to cause you trouble, yeah.” He felt as if he wanted to reach up and cup the boy's face in his hands, but he knew that a single touch might change his decision.

This decision was a bit harder than simply deciding paper or plastic.
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Rinakins
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Self-proclaimed OC abuser. ....ilu Pawn.
"I'd like to think I'd be a good boyfriend, don't you think?"

Volt was talking into the bar.

His face had unceremoniously planted into it after the second drink he had taken, his neck deciding that it too, was done with life. "I mean, I'm pretty fucking good looking, and I'm pretty sure I'd give hood head! ....I mean. Good head. Of course I'd give Hood head." Volt's spiky head turned, and he looked at the man who was seated beside him. "What do you think? Do you give good head?" Of course, Volt had just asked another man, who was probably straight, if he gave good head. Would you expect a respectable answer?

Volt obviously didn't, as he faced back into the bar, slowly crushing his nose. "I fucking hate keeping promises. Baaaah." He lifted his head, and then hit it against the wood top again. "Like fuuuuck. And you know, after this, I'm going to have to pick up a chick just to hand her off to him. Which is pretty much like taking a lemon slice, rubbing salt into it, and then cutting my cock open and slipping it inside. And then sewing up the wound with a Cactuar. ...And that feels like shit, trust me."

And then another drink was placed in front on him. Volt, feeling too woeful to lift his hands, managed to wrap his lips around the glass and throw his head back, swallowing the burning liquid quickly. His head snapped back downwards, and the small glass dropped from his lips with a sloppy plunk. "I really hate life sometimes." Volt's electric eyes trailed over to the red haired man, who seemed to be getting into a bit of a conflict. Over a woman. "Why do the moogle gods hate me so much...?"

"Really...?" Hood's red eyebrow had shot up, a rather nasty looking smirk falling onto his lips. This man was a beast. Strong, Large, and overly intimidating. He held no seductive charm, or handsome debonair. It was really... rawrful. "So.. If I remove my hands from this fine ass..." Hood made a very pointed movement of giving it a squeeze. "She'll get taken care of?" The man instead seemed to pull the girl even closer. "By who? Certainly not you." There was a scoff in his voice as he spoke.

This beast could take care of a womans needs? Really? The brute looked anything but the type to please a woman. Make them scream, yes. But there was a difference. With hands like Hood's, soft, but not too soft, big, but not too big, you could do things to a woman that an uncoordinated buffoon like the other couldn't even think about. Or that was how Hood saw it.

-&&-

The man was smiling. It was such a different smile than anything he had ever seen before. Volt's smile was something far more playful, and jubilant. But this man... He seemed to have a sense of sincerity and.... understanding, maybe? Pawn blinked, seeming mesmerized by those eyes. How long had it been since he had actually had eye contact with a customer? Far too long. But maybe it was better that way. There was no connection. He wouldn't have to feel bad about it, because the person didn't owe him anything. No one did. Pawn deserved nothing.

Those eyes though... they seemed so trusting. So apologetic. A small part of Pawn, locked deep underneath everything else wanted to cry to him, to fall into his lap like a child would to a mother. He wanted to be lost in his arms, protected.

But that was a stupid, fleeting thought. He had no protection. This man, like all the others before him, owed him nothing. This was why he was here. And thats how it would be, for as long as he was alive, it seemed. Pawn blocked out the thoughts as best he could, trying to recover his glazed over eyes, hiding any emotion.

He was trying to get out of it. Pawn barely heard the words, but he knew it. It wouldn't make a difference. He still wasn't doing his job. Crim wouldn't be pleased. He had to keep this man here. And although his brain screamed it was for business reasons only... something else inside of him yearned to be looked at like that again.

"N-No." Pawn insisted, scooting even closer to the man. "D-Don't go. Y-You came because you n-n-needed someth-thing." He spoke softly, avoiding those magical eyes. "You just can't n-not need it n-now." Pawn looked up finally, making eye contact again. His delicate hands came to rest on Ratcliff, one on his arm, and another on his thigh. "L-Let me help you, p-please..." And he was pawing at him softly, trying to convince the man to stay.
Edited by Rinakins, Dec 21 2009, 10:31 PM.
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Ziggy Pasta
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Every few seconds he'd hear a muffled voice coming from the glossy surface of the bar. He would lean in when he thought that the man would start to talk, but when he wouldn't, Elici would just straighten himself back, only to find that the man would begin to talk again. Elici had good ears, but even this was hard for him.

Had he heard the man ask him if he gave good head?

Elici laughed. “'Fraid not my friend. I get good head from my wife, but I can't say I've ever given head.” He took a swig of the beer he decided to go with, in an attempt to dilute the whiskey he had started with. Usually it was the opposite with him, but tonight there was something in the air that he sensed that urged him to start heavy, and end light. “And even if I did, it still doesn't change your situation.” But the man beside him didn't seem to listen as he spoke. The man was lucky that it was him that he was talking to, as any other man who was the slightest bit judgmental or insecure with himself might have decked him by now for saying some of the things he was saying. Elici was comfortable with himself to be asked these sorts of questions, as he had heard enough from Ratcliff when he was drunk – and sober – to be used to it.

He thought he heard something about lemon slices, salt, and cocks, and even he found himself wincing and squeezing his legs together at the thought. This man really did look like he could use a drink, so he decided to buy him one just from the vibe he gave off when he first sat down at the bar. After conversing with the man for a bit, and as the man became increasingly drunk by such little alcohol, what was one more to add to the list? Elici placed a shot of whiskey in front of him and he watched with amusement as the man just wrapped his lips around it and threw his head back without so much as moving. Perhaps he should order him another?

But Elici watched with less amusement as the man's eyes trailed over to the corner of the bar on the dance floor, and Elici turned with him. Graves was at it again, and his face fell flat. Very, very flat. He reached over and patted the man on the shoulder with a troubled sigh. “Good news. The moogle gods don't just hate you, my friend. They hate me too.”

~*~*~

Graves could hardly believe it. He watched as the man's hands reached down and cupped the woman's ass and squeezed. Those hands looked tiny compared to his own, and they looked as if they were too inexperienced to even be on a woman.

“Last chance, bro. Ya ain't leavin' this place with the same face ya got on if ya don't get'cher hands off my lady.” He took a step forward, cracking his knuckles with a sickening crunch, hoping that would deter the man from even wasting any more of his time. Time was quite precious to him, especially when it could be used for drinking, smoking and having sex with women. But instead it was ticking away in front of him in the form of an insignificant gnat buzzing about the lady that would occupy him for the night. Maybe he'd get the ball rolling.

“If yer dick is anywhere near the size of your hands, I have a better chance of taking care of her than you do.”

~*~*~

He did need something. It was undeniable, and he could no longer ignore it like it wasn't there. That's why he was here with this boy, it was true. For a while, he disregarded his feelings as nothing but a stupid crush, nothing but a fleeting ideal of being taken care of by someone strong, who for once, actually seemed to care about him. He was needy, and he was lonely. He hated himself for falling so easily for someone with a smile that seemed as if they cared. He couldn't handle the truths he discovered in the past about his ignorance, and so he clung onto what little hope he had with Elici, and mistook it for possibility.

Ratcliff grew restless for the past few months, and each smile that Elici would share with him whittled away at his endurance and patience. He could no longer turn his back on his urges, and since he realized that that possibility he was hanging onto for so long was gone, he grew desperate for something – anything. Anyone.

And that anyone was sitting beside him, his small hands coming in contact with his body, and he felt each muscle in his body constrict, and each nerve intensify. It was a nervous touch, one filled with hesitation and uncertainty, but there was something behind it. Almost as if the boy was holding some deep emotion in him that longed to be needed in a way that Ratcliff felt in himself. He sensed it in him, he could see it in those soft eyes as their gaze met in the dim light from above. They reflected a longing in them, one that Ratcliff recognized all too well. But soon it disappeared as quick as it came, and was replaced with a seriousness that resembled business.

'L-let me help you, p-please.'

Ratcliff continued to stare into him and he then wondered if it was truly himself that needed help. He only wondered what this boy went through to get to where he was now. But as much as Ratcliff wanted to inquire, he could still feel that touch coursing through him, and he found that he began to lean down towards him, his eyes becoming half-lidded and focusing on nothing but the boy's soft lips.

Maybe they could help each other.
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Rinakins
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Hood really wished at this point that he had given up the idea of drinking before going to the bar. Had he been a little more close to sober, his skill would've probably kicked in and he would've probably been able to hold up his end of the fight. How ever, Lady Luck was not on his side tonight, nor was anything that could relatively helpful. He was screwed. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard his sober self laugh. Or maybe that was someone behind him. Either way, he didn't appreciate the laughter.

So Hood, being the idiot he is while wasted, grabbed the closest thing to him, which happened to be a bottle of some sort of alcoholic beverage, and raised it up. His mind was cheering him on, and with as much force he could muster, and brought it down on the man's head, expecting it to shatter.

What he got, how ever, was nothing but a dull thunk. There was no shattering. Hood stared. The bottle was resting neatly on the guys head. Fuck. "Goddamn tempered glass..." Hood muttered, bonking the bottle against his head a few more times. "Bro, your fro's a little thick, there."

After another bonk, Hood abandoned the glass, tossing it behind him. It shattered. "Oh sure, NOW do it.. fuck."

So Hood, having no idea what the hell to do anymore, decided to throw any caution to the wind, and tackled the very large man, finally starting the impending fight.

-&&-

Over at the bar, Volt was staring, open mouthed. "Oh for god sakes." He whimpered pitifully, dropping his head into his hand. "Well... nursing his wounds is about as close as I'll get to fucking, suppose thats better than nothing." Volt lifted his head and cringed. This was not going to end well for the redhead.

It wouldn't be his first bar fight, of course. Volt's memory may of been a little hazy but he remembered them well. Hood had normally come out on top, but that was normally because his opponents were completely wasted, or were barely legal twerps who thought that starting a fight with the well known womanizer was a good idea. This other man however, could do some serious damage. So Volt, being the amazing friend he is, ordered another drink and sat back and watched.

"So uh. I'm Volt. You?"

-&&-

What was this? Pawn blinked, his hazy eyes clearing up for once. There were lips on his own, surprisingly gentle and smooth. A blush hue on his cheekbones grew. His own lips were chapped and cracked, and were probably horribly rough against this man's. Pawn panicked. Crim had always warned him to never let his faults show, and wasn't this one of them? Not only his lips, but the entire idea of kissing alone was enough to make his head throb. Despite the many times Pawn had been taken, he had never once been kissed, not like this. There had been times when he found a tongue stuffed down his throat, claiming dominance. But this was far different. These lips were patient, kissing him, but only going half way, as if expecting him to kiss back.

He wanted to slide forward and return the kiss, he did. However... what if he were to fail, and this man deemed him horrible and useless? If he couldn't kiss, maybe he though the boy couldn't do anything else. Or maybe... maybe the man was doing this out of pity. Pity was almost as good as friendship or love...

“You don't h-have to...” Pawn murmured against the lips. “Mister... I d-don't know how... you don't...” And then part of the brain turned off inside of Pawn, and he let hims self trail off again. Pity was as good as love and friendship, and it seemed like it was all he was going to get. Slowly, Pawn's hands came up and hung loosely around the man's neck, his own lips, how ever dry they were, pressed against the others.
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All related Final Fantasy VII characters © the all-mighty Square Enix. All related original characters © their creators - Rinakins and Ziggy Pasta. This roleplay is for entertainment purposes only and in no way do we personally condone or support any mature themes or actions mentioned in this roleplay.