Narrative: When Nobody's Looking...(NSFW) Who: Jordin, two nameless people, and mentions of Blaine When: June 13th, mid-morning Where: Home Depot & Home What:Character establishment: Jordin gets his hands dirty. Warnings: NSFW, Sadism, death, and male anatomy doing male anatomy things.
As Jordin pulled up to Home Depot, he took his glasses off as he noted all of the "undesirables" lined up at the edge of the parking lot. Parking nearby, he stepped out and walked up to them, stroking his chin in decision. He came here because the "undesirables" (i.e. illegal immigrants) had no connections to the world he lived in, and were thus "fair game", as he liked to put it.
Scanning the line, Jordin pointed to the two largest men. "Tengo trabajar para los dos. Ven y sígueme." He lived in Phoenix all of his life, so he knew he would have to be fluent in Spanish. He was glad he went to Central High School, where it was mandatory to take a "foreign" language.
As they got into the car, he eyed them in the rear-view mirror. "¿Hables Inglés?"
"Mas o menos." Said the larger one.
Jordin gave a satisfied grunt and started heading toward his apartment. "Bien. First, I will have to clean you up. Then, I will have to give you new clothes. If I am putting you to work, I will not have you be obvious. ¿Los entiendes?"
"Sí señor," said the smaller man.
Jordin glared at the man through the mirror and cleared his throat angrily.
"Uh...I-I-I mean...'Yes, sir'," the main said, correcting himself with a pretty good lack of an accent. 'It's too bad for him that he's actually quite good,' Jordin thought to himself. 'Oh well.'
"Good," he replied, a grin on his face.
-----
"Now," Jordin started while they got onto his floor and made their way to his residence, "I'm not bringing you to a shelter or anything, because I cannot be seen with you two before your transformation. I have an image to maintain." Unlocking the door and opening it, he gestured them to enter. Walking behind them, he took off his gloves and closed the door with his foot. "Now...onto business. Turn around."
The two men turned around and were meet with a very unhinged-looking Jordin before he grabbed them by the throats and held strong, slamming the backs of their heads into the nearby wall. They struggled, but in vain, as Jordin had stored up some Kinetic energy by going to a batting cage and allowing the machine to hit him full-force. They hit and kicked him, but he just absorbed the blows and put more strength into his grip. He inhaled deeply, then slammed them hard onto the floor, sitting on his knees for better leverage. He smiled as he felt the point in which his hands were in contact with them grow warmer and warmer as he drew the heat from their bodies. That was the one benefit of his heat-drawing power, as all of the heat flowed towards his hands, it collected and got warmer, keeping it above room temperature. It was delicious. He could practically taste the heat as it crawled up his arms and into his body, becoming a substitute nutrient and feeding him.
Jordin gave a slight frown as their flailing lessened more and more, as he enjoyed watching them struggle. Something about watching the fight intensify and then watch the hope suddenly leave the men's eyes as they realized they had no chance and were at their final moments brought his body and mind excitement that nothing else had. It was wonderful. He could feel it now, down in his groin, and all throughout his body. His heart was racing, his mind and breathing growing erratic, his already-tight pants growing tighter still as his cock hardened, and the drool falling from his mouth were driving Jordin up the wall. He humped the air in front of himself, the friction of his pants and underwear rubbing and exciting him. He undid his pants and grabbed one of the fresh corpses' hands, wrapping the dead fingers around his burning erection and stroking, stroking, stroking, tightening the grip, no established pace, just frantic, humping, thrusting, shaking, tingling, burning!
Jordin's body stiffened for a small fraction of a second before he violently shook as he came in the nameless man's hand. He sat there, on top of the body, for who knows how long, basking in the afterglow an expression of pure bliss plastered on his face. As it faded, he looked down at his hands. His hands were dirty from their unclean skin. He then shifted his attention to the bodies, cold and lifeless. They had almost literally outlived their usefulness. Now dead, they couldn't feel neither pain, sorry, anguish, fear, nor could they die again. Useless. Like that whore of a cheerleader who had apparently OD'd on massive amounts ecstasy that Jordin just so happened to have slipped her as they were "taking their relationship to the next step", or his father, the man who had hurt his mother just because she didn't return physical attraction. Too bad that, unlike those four people, he couldn't kill Blaine. That he couldn't put that face that Grace, Tekin Polat, or two nameless corpses on his floor had as they lost the last bit of hope and fight in them. He imagined the scenario: Blaine, his boss, dying, that face flashing just as fear dominated his emotions. But he would never get the chance, because he needed Blaine alive for as long as possible.
Jordin didn't know it until now, but he hated Blaine even more than everyone else. Because there was nothing he could do. ----- A/N: ...Yup. I meant it when I said he was nuts. I hope that his mental state was emphasized with how my writing progressed into more and more nonsensical ramblings as he went more and more off-handle.
All characters mentioned here are fictional and not based off of real people, and any resemblance to actual persons is completely coincidental.
Translations, in order: I have work for you two. Come and follow me. Do you speak English? More or less. Good. Do you understand?