sinful

Dirk rolled his eyes. “You don’t own the street. I’m free to stand here... innocently.” Dirk shoved his black as night sunglasses back up his nose, scoffing at the man like a professional. His arms crossed, cigarette safe in his free hand, burning, smoke cascading around his face, even though he was still too young to buy cigarettes. He never got carded, or paid, for that matter. 

americanxsin#7485

Good thing was that he never had been exactly on the smaller side while being a girl. So now as a boy he usually passed as the average height. “And what do you call it? Also destruction of private property?” After all, the male was the law in some way, but still, he was keeping Percy out of getting into real trouble. “I know hard Marshall, I had him in me a few times.” The boy was never too shy for a reply. “It’s not a bad thing. But you don’t hug me that often. So that’s a bit surprising. So it seems like you’re in a softer mood.” He wasn’t minding the males eyes on him. By now he wasn’t feeling this embarrassed about his body. With the added muscles from working out he was pretty comfortable in his skin, and the only part giving away that he wasn’t a normal guy was usually well hidden. And by now, this was no news for Marshall an the other male also hadn’t complained so far. “Then you can eat me.” He looked over at the male before he got in the shower. “Double meaning here. How about you assist me in getting wet?” He probably preferred not being objectified, but he was happy with being wanted. He hadn’t felt that way for long. “I think you could use another shower.” He was already washing himself, still he was looking back at the male. It was obvious that this wasn’t leading to some cuddling, at least not anytime soon.

Marshall would really have to think about that. He was the law, after all, but he didn't always follow all the rules, so maybe he didn't take that role as seriously as he pretended to. "I think... you're screamin' into the void here," the sheriff admitted. "What exactly can be said in a little town like this through your art? This ain't New York City," he said, spitting that name out like it tasted bad. Eyes looked over the tall boy as he ducked beneath the stream of water, letting it trail down him, baptizing his beautiful body for him. "I still think you're just desperate for attention.... My attention." And that much was obvious by how the boy asked him to join him beneath the spray of the shower.

Vincent had met several people that night and by now he could say, Smith wasn’t the worst. This was probably why he didn’t like taking these jobs, but it was always a nice way to make good money. Though the males confession was indeed surprising. He was aware that Smith could go with anyone tonight, this was what these guys did after all, right? But having Smith tell him that he was not wanting to be alone that night and this was the reason why he asked Vincent to come with him.. it was cute. And when he had felt like protecting the male moments ago, he was now definitely feeling like protecting him. “Then why don’t you get yourself a nice girlfriend.” He was smiling softly. “Or a boyfriend. I think even you could manage to find someone that will stay for longer than just a night.” Of course he didn’t know Smith and he wasn’t going to judge him, even when he was pulling out the coke. Drug addicts had their reasons, in his industry of beauty and perfection, he was seeing this a lot. Models using it, photographers.. the famous that wanted to get loose. “No thank you.” He by now had managed to stay away from that stuff and he wasn’t going to change that tonight. “I am fine with drinks, for now.” He was watching Smith for a little. “Alright, lea the way. I guess I can stay the night.” He wasn’t sure where all of this was heading, but he was ready to just let himself be a bit surprised. He was gesturing Smith to follow him when he left the bathroom, after all he had to gather up his bags, his equipment was probably the most expensive he owned.

The cocaine burned in his nostrils and made his face buzz, slightly numbing as it hit. Maybe the stranger didn't party. Most people Smith's age did in this scene. It was impossible to deal with the pretension of the scenes their parties inhabited without at least a slight buzz on. Smith liked to stay high. Stoned, or coked up, ready to fuck or dance or live. He didn't feel alive here. He couldn't be himself here, so he did what he could to get out of himself. The long look at him felt almost judgmental, but Smith tried to not overthink it. "I don't want a girlfriend," Smith answered, "...or a boyfriend, for that matter." More like, he couldn't have a boyfriend. At least not as long as his father was still breathing.

Percys eyes were attentive while he took in the male in front of him that probably was as overwhelmed with their whole situation than he was himself. Since going through his changes he wasn’t seeing people much. Especially not sexually. It was a fear of being rejected, of being called a freak, to be treated like a girl just because he was lacking a dick. And he honestly was surprised that Marshall wasn’t really judging him. But he still couldn’t really figure out what the male was thinking, if he was a fun toy to keep around. “So do I.. yet I wouldn’t leave my guest all by themselves while practically running from them.” he was smirking some, his tone a bit teasing. His arms lifted over his head when the older male took off his shirt, a somewhat casual gesture, but then, he hardly ever stayed dressed for long when entering the males place. “To be fair, you just keep catching me doing my art.. I think these stupid walls look much better with a bit of paint..”  Having the males hands on his ass wasn’t too surprising, it was the gentle gesture of being pressed against the males body for a hug. “You’re.. pretty soft today.” He noticed and he surely knew, saying that out loud could be dangerous. “Fine. Let’s shower then.” He was slowly winding himself out of the males grip before he grabbed the sheriffs hand and pulled him to the bathroom. “And I hope when you say eating me we are talking about your tongue on my holes instead of cannibalism. I’m not a fan of that..” He was smirking some, getting completely undressed once arriving in the bathroom

Of course Vincent wasn’t being serious nor did he really consider that, getting the guy to come back. He was no sadist, nor did he want the guy to feel uncomfortable once again. He just wanted to make sure that he hadn’t done a single thing to harm Smith and surely deserved to be thanked, in one way or another, and just acknowledging his help would also be good enough for him. Vincent had the door in his hand already but closed it fully once again when the male would start something like a conversation with him. He surely could see just how exhausted Smith seemed to be by all this but he wasn’t going to address that, after all, moments ago he was just some cockroach of paparazzi for the male. “I always hope I am more charming than any guy creeping on another so visibly straight guy.” He teased because hell, he had been at that point himself, he knew how much work it was to just hide himself behind a straight fassade. “Your room?” This had Vincent laugh softly. “Didn’t you want to get rid of me moments ago? What changed your mind that I now am great company.” He raised a brow. “Or did my camera seal the deal with you?” He let his gaze wander shortly before his attention was back on Smith. “Do you have some drinks there?”

Smith was well aware that he had the bad habit of being the absolute worst. How his personality could change from wicked to sweet in mere moments. Smith didn’t really know who he was, but he knew he wasn’t right. He never felt right. His entire life, he had felt out of place, the queer beefy quarterback who was raised on a ranch. His well maintained body, and pretty straight teeth hid that his throat was full of lies, ready to release one by one, right after the other. Smith was so tired of lying. Something about the stranger’s eyes upon his own made him want to take him upstairs and be honest with him. The type of honesty that only happened when all the clothes came off, and eyes closed and lips locked. 

Percy of course didn’t know much about Marshall, not that the other guy really opened up to him. So far their relationship, if you wanted to call it that, was based around their sexual encounters. Not that often but it seemed like it happened occasionally, especially, when Percy once again felt like rebelling, like tagging on walls he surely shouldn’t spray on. And whatever him and Marshall had, it kept him from getting into any serious trouble. But the way in which Marshall was giving him affection in one moment and how he treated him like he was none existent any other moment.. it had Percy unsure about how to actually deal with that form of.. rejection. When he heard a voice behind himself, he knew that the sneaking off didn’t work. So he slowly turned around to look back at the male, still in just his towel. “Heading home.” He was furrowing his brows some. “It didn’t seem like you wanted more company.” He kept a fair little distance to the male, though he had stopped walking further away. Sighing he moved past Marshall. They probably could discuss this in there, he didn’t need to make a scene out on the street. “What changed your mind? I mean, you practically ran to that shower like I was some monster trying to eat you.” He ran a hand through his dark hair. “See, uh, you don’t need to act like you care for me.. more than sexually.” He gestured to the door. “It’s not the first time I would be kicked out after sex, I can handle that.” 

Maybe Marshall had ran because he was scared. He knew he wasn't disgusted by Percy, even staring down at the short boy now, with him in his clothes, looking all disheveled from their furious fuck session. The boy actually looked pretty like this, hair all a mess, smelling like Marshall, because the man had rubbed his scent all over him. "To be fair," the man drawled, "I always take a shower after work." The sheriff offered a crooked smile, hands finding Percy's hips, glad that he was back in the safety of his home now. He was back to him, they were back together. He hadn't scared the little thing off like he had the first time.

Was he expected to be thanked? Not really. The guys around such parties usually weren’t too friendly. At least, he hardly met guys that would treat him with respect, even though, he hadn’t been a paparazzi for a while. So when the creep headed off and it was them both, a thank you wasn’t coming his way, which had Vincent focus on himself again instead. He peed, flushed, put himself away and then was at the sink himself to get his hands washed. “Your posture was screaming discomfort. I didn’t really see you speak up, but I will just tell this guy that you are interested and I got it wrong.” Vincent rolled his eyes some before he dried off his fingers, slowly looking back at Smith. “I am here to take normal photos, I am a paid photographer.” He snorted softly, eyeing Smith shortly. “But careful, if you stumble out of this event drunk with some chicks in your arms, there will be paparazzi waiting for you. And then you surely would wish it was me.” He nodded shortly. “So. Was I judging the situation right or were you actually charmed by that guy? I would hate if I would end up ruining a fuck for you.”

"Wait... don't," Smith argued, voice turning a little whiny. The last thing he wanted was the creep to return. This man who had attempted and succeeded in rescuing him wasn't hard on the eyes either. And at least now he knew for sure that he wasn't some paparazzi that had managed to sneak in. The last thing Smith needed was his father to learn the truth about who he was. "I'm sorry," Smith attempted, eyes looking sad, seeming drained by the strain of having to go and be fake. Smith hated pretending like he was the apple of his oil barren father's eye.

"Trust me," Smith murmured, "you're a lot more charming than my stalker." The corner of his smile pulled up, and he was eyeing the camera hanging around the man's board neck. Licking at his lips, Smith eyed his watch. Was it late enough to sneak off, to offer to show the man the view from the penthouse of this hotel?  Fuck consequences was usually Smith's motto, and like a good hedonist he didn't need to overthink this. "Do you want to see my room?", Smith offered, fixing his collar in the mirror, "you can even get some photographs of me, maybe...."

@americanxsin​

It wasn’t exactly surprising that Marshall would practically flee from him after sex, yet it.. hurt. The way the male would look at him with a mix of confusion and want and what he would call disgust, if ti was against Marshall himself or directed towards Percy, he couldn’t tell. But being left like this had Percy sit up slowly grabbing his clothes to get dressed again. There was no need to stay here. Though Marshall hadn’t phrased it, he felt no longer welcomed, as if his stay had been long enough anyways. Slipping back in his boxer shorts and pants was quickly done, he would get cleaned in his own apartment. Next was his shirt and shoes, the socks were simply stuffed in the pockets of his jeans because honestly, he wanted to leave quickly because this whole situation would probably just feel more awkward, if Marshall happened to catch him mid leaving. Once being somewhat dressed and gathering the rest of his clothes, Percy headed for the door and while he tried to sneak out quietly, it sadly fell shut so loudly, it made Percy jump some.  But standing under the shower, the male surely wasn’t hearing him anyways, or probably, wouldn’t even care much.

Marshall hadn't been inside of a boy for a while. And never had he been in a boy quite like Percy. It had felt too good, pulling him into shapes, and exploiting his pretty little body. But when it was over, the impulse to get had overtaken him. The sheriff needed to baptize himself in hot water, and then maybe he'd return to the boy he had happily bred mere moments ago. The shame was deep rooted, but it wasn't over Percy or who Percy was. The shame came from his upbringing. What his father instilled in him after his mother died.

The door slammed, and Marshall grunted. Exiting the shower quickly, he wrapped a towel around his waist, heading after the boy that was attempting to sneak away from him. He was in no way done with Percy. "Kid," the sheriff grunted accusingly, "where are you going?" He didn't like this: standing out from nearly naked on display for his neighbors. "Get that nice ass back in here," he directed, stepping aside so the boy could come back to him. "There's room in the shower for you too...," he cooed, a hand adjusting his cock through the white towel.

Vincent had a great reputation, so photographing at such events wasn’t a big deal for him any longer. A few years ago he surely would have tried to sneak into such parties, bribing the security to get a few shots. Starting as a paparazzi he now was actually paid to shoot the prominent people or those considered that. But every great photographer needed a pee break and what he also noticed was this one guy and another guy heading to the toilet. And wouldn’t it be fun to walk in on some guys getting it going? Though, this wasn’t exactly what he was seeing when he did enter the bathroom, instead he was greeted with a weir atmosphere and one guy seeming beyond uncomfortable. “Ah, buddy, seems like you didn’t notice, but my friend here, he isn’t interested.” Vincent nodded over to Smyth while having his eyes on the creep, positioning himself at one of the empty urinals a little further away. “And I don’t think you want any of us both to get one of the securities from outside. Take my advice. You’re not in his league.” Surely Smyth hadn’t asked for any help, but his whole posture made Vincent react. “Plus… that dick isn’t this impressive.. so get done here and put it away.”

Smith was too shy in situations like this to say no usually. Oftentimes, he'd just get familiar with the feel of the Italian tile against his knees. He'd get it over with, and savor his alone time, maybe even sniff a quick line off the counter to get the taste out of his mouth. But apparently, he had more than just the one follower. Now, there were three of them, all with their dicks out. And Smith couldn't help but to roll his eyes as the other man came to his defense, chasing off the creep.

Eyes shot over to study the photographer, a brow raising at him. "I'm not some damsel in distress, baby," Smith drawled in his heavy Texas accent. His eyes darted back down, and finally, he could pee. Maybe he had needed to be saved, but that wasn't the vibe he liked to give off. Shaking his dick, he returned it to his tight slacks, and flushed the upscale, black urinal. Walking to the sinks, he slowly washed his hands, wondering if hanging around with a paparazzi was the best idea. Slowly, he dried his hands, turning, and eyeing the man and his camera. "I don't know what story you're trying to push, but you're... of base," the heir argued, trying to keep his voice good and deep, and to sound like a powerful, straight man.

Smith’s eyes narrowed at the man that had cornered him in the bathroom. What was it about events like this that always lead to some guy who thought he knew what Smith was about following him around all night? Smith eyed the imported Italian marble tile that covered the floor, standing pensively at the urinal, feeling eyes on him. Situations like this required a buffer urinal, but the other man had obviously not gotten the memo, standing right next to him as they both held their dicks. Smith sighed, Texas accent clear in the sound, his eyes shooting down to his own pee shy cock, unable to go with the other man so close to him. 

Drew didn’t want to be there at all. He would have been fine with sticking an ice pack on his hand and heading home for the night. But he knew it wouldn’t be that simple. He never imagined breaking his hand on someone’s face. It just never sounded realistic. When he was angry though, he didn’t really take in consideration his size. He was a big guy, and he worked out almost religiously. He needed to keep in shape for his work, but it was a hobby to him by now. He didn’t have any business getting in fights. He knew what he was capable of but tonight he didn’t care. He was just glad it didn’t end up any worse than it did.

He didn’t know what to think when he saw Gino step towards him. The confusion only grew when the other guy sat down next to him. He didn’t seem to give up. He couldn’t help rolling his eyes when he spoke up. He looked towards his good hand, the idea of breaking it on his head sounding more tempting as he went on. Finally, he looked over at him again. He wasn’t a bad looking guy, when he saw him up close. Annoying, but nonetheless. He thought about his words about his words before answering Gino, for the first time that night. “You were just getting on my nerves back there.” He still was a little bit, but Drew couldn’t fight him in a hospital. That was an easy way to get arrested, and he didn’t need any of that. He sat back in the seat, a blank expression on his face as he continued to study the other’s. “I’ll give you a bag for breaking your face. If that’s what you’re into,” he offered. To say he felt bad was a bit of a stretch, but he thought it’d make them even.

Gino slouched down into the chair next to Drew, eyeing the boy. Maybe he shouldn't have been teasing him. But he couldn't help it. Drew was just too damn cute when he got all pissed off, face red, and fists clenched. And Gino liked it when all eyes at a party were on him, and there was no better way of that than making jokes at someone's expensive. "Ya think a pretty face like this is just worth a bag?", Gino teased, winking at Drew as blood dribbled down his face. "Ya got a pretty mean hook on ya, don't you?", Gino teased, eyeing the hand that looked worse than his hard head.

Bran didn’t mind the closeness between them, although this was the first time that he and Leif had other words beside ones about work. He was glad that Leif seemed to be feeling a little better at the offer of a room and he nodded. Bran sighed softly when the younger man again leaned closer, he wondered how much seducing Leif had done in the last couple of months or years to get what he wanted.

“If you want to make it work, you better make sure that your tattooing is up to par.” He responded with a pointed look before leaning in. He was attracted to Leif, he wasn’t going to deny that, but he also wanted to have more than just someone who thought to trade his body. His kiss was firm but gentle and he settled a hand on Leif’s cheek. “I mean it, Leif… you’ve got the talent. No need to be the ‘hobosexual’ with me, ok? Get your shit together and then I might even date you.” He gave the other a small smile. “I’m only in it for the real deal, babe, make sure you’re it.”

Dark eyes were slightly hooded as he stared at Bran and waited. He hadn't expected his boss to actually kiss him, but he closed his eyes, and he kissed back, hands staying at his sides, and letting the older man lead. The words purred at him hit harder than the warm kiss. Leif wasn't used to being talked to like this, having more expected of him. "The real deal," Leif repeated, eyes darting away from Bran. "I can be the real deal," he breathed, feeling his heart fluttering.