What Would Etta Candy Do? (commiesharefest) wrote in pup_prompts, @ 2008-08-27 23:58:00 |
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Entry tags: | prompt 2 |
Who: A young Pietro Maximoff
From: A private thing I have going on
By: Krys
Note: Prompt 2: Determination. Also, warning: Sex!
The last fuck of the night looked most like Wanda. She had the right hair and the right build. The eyes were all wrong, but Pietro didn't concentrate much on her face. He only saw her hair, tainted red by a neon glow coming in from the window, and the curve of her breast under the small halter top she wore. The music playing from the club next door was loud enough that most conversation could be drowned out. Neither one of them was there to talk, anyway.
She was beautiful, if you didn't look too close. Beyond a casual glance, one would see the shadows under her eyes and the hallows in her cheeks. She was on something, an addict in the way Pietro wished he could be.
There wasn't any song and dance. Pietro was glad for this. She crushed her body into his and rubbed against him in time to the baseline that played in the background, making him hard quickly. She kissed him and Pietro tasted cigarettes.
He undid her top, tugging it off and tossing it aside. He played with her breasts as she concerned herself with his pants and underwear. Pietro felt fingertips on the small of his belly and exhaled, anticipation starting to make him anxious.
He shed his shirt on his own while the girl unbuttoned the short-shorts that just barely covered her ass. Then, it was just a pair of panties in the way of his cock.
Pietro stilled her small hands as they brushed against his hips. He brought them up to his shoulders instead and leaned in to ravage her mouth. His cock brushed against her and his fingertips began a journey upward, to her throat.
The skin there was delicate and pale. Pietro wrapped his fingers around her neck and gave an experimental squeeze. The girl didn't seem to protest. Letting himself go a little, he squeezed tighter. Pietro shut his eyes and pretended he wasn't in a cheap room with a stranger. He imagined they were somewhere else, that she was someone else. It was a sickness to pretend even for the briefest of seconds that this girl was Wanda, but he did. He squeezed tighter still and he heard Wanda moan as he brushed against her naked body.
And then the illusion fell as the girl he was really with let out a noise. Pietro looked into her face and saw that she'd had enough.
He picked her up roughly and removed her panties for her. "Condom," he growled in her ear. She reached for the table and undid the wrapper. Her hand slid down his cock like a pro and he groaned. They were ready. Without any more warning, he thrust into a girl whose name he didn't even know.
He fucked her hard, hand sliding into her hair, balling into a fist, and pulling. She gasped and crashed into him over and over as he feasted on her throat. Pietro didn't realize he was chanting his sister's name like a quiet prayer. Even if his companion could have heard another woman's name coming from his lips, it was likely she wouldn't have cared.
It was over quickly. One final moan from her, one last thrust from him and they disentangled themselves from each other. They dressed in silence, not bothering to make small talk. Pietro's eye caught something on the ground. Her panties, deep scarlet and lacy, lay forgotten on the floor. He snatched them up and bunched them into a ball, sliding them into his pocket. "A souvenir," he said darkly when she shot him a mildly curious glance.
"Whatever," she shrugged.
"Yeah. Whatever," Pietro couldn't help but smile sardonically. But the gesture felt empty. He felt empty. He'd spent his night fucking strangers and he didn't feel the least bit satisfied. And he knew exactly why. Pietro was ill. He didn't see a cure in sight.