Malcolm Remington

lace - if you own any dresses, which is your favorite?

watermelon - do films ever make you cry?

cherry - what is your sexuality?

    “Straight. Don’t think anything of the twinks either, a hole’s a hole. Easy to mistake.” 

cuddles - do you have any pets?

    “Fuck no. Worthless waste’s of space.”

cupcake - are you a good cook?

     Answered. 

twilight - best friend?   

lace - if you own any dresses, which is your favorite?

    “There’s that one, green. Really fucking ball friendly. They just jingle jangle. Breezy. Little Remington makes an appearance too, you know when he’s got an eye out for something he likes. No mystery with that dress, it is what it is.” 

lollipop - favorite makeup products?

     “The fuck would I know? Anything that makes those nasty ass crater faces look like they haven’t been moon-walked on. Anything that hides those binged too late on coke dick black under eyes. I don’t know. Who wants to look at a ratchet bitch? Be honest now. 

kiss - have you ever kissed a friend?

    “I’ve done it a lot.  Ask @judenolans“

cupcake - are you a good cook?

 “Whats to it? Toss some meat, grill some greens, doesn’t really matter with someone like Marta does it? A tamale like that, fuckin’ right.” (Marta’s his personal chef M-F) 

  velvet - who was your first crush?

    “Don’t know her name but she opened wide and let me play with the beef curtains. She kinda looked like Jennifer Love Hewitt. Guess she was a babysitter.” 

watermelon - do films ever make you cry

    “No.”

     “Oh. You got something from...” making a purpose to look intently at the name scribbled, “I don’t know might be your parents. Shitty handwriting, times really catching up isn’t it?” 

One of these days, she thought (quite regularly, actually), this game of tennis is going to end. The score won’t always be love-love. But she knew that her sparring was infinite. Every word with Malcolm was a potential chess piece, and even if both cried out “Check!” every other sentence, Sam knew he was always much closer to checkmate than she liked.

To hell with the coyness.

Unbuckling her seatbelt, she wasted no time hiking up the satin of the silver nightslip she dared call a dress that day, and thrusting herself out of her seat, and into his lap, straddling him. She expected him to throw her off, to bind her wrists, or to even spit in her face; perhaps, one of these days, he would do her the favor of bashing her skull in, but for now–

“I don’t want to do anything in LA. I loathe this coast. But none of my favorite things have ever been limited to location.“

      Skin was easy, tales of the flesh. Cracking, breaking, touching. Always an aggressive balance that he knew Sam was more than aware of too. When she lifted herself to fit, small and light across his lap he’d already been watching the way her barely there breasts flashed with the movement of her dress. The way the hem played across her thighs with the transition. There wasn’t a hesitation in where he placed his hands, the way he saw it it was a free for all. So he found the place right below her ass, still as he remembered, small enough he could feel his own warm hand on the other side. Kneading, and pulling tighter and closer. 

      She was that vulture to his carcass—except instead of playing dead Sam  always knew how to get a rise. He felt it in his jeans here an now. And when he thought outside this promise of succession, of course thought of a way to use her. To get another sort of rise. When they were close like this again, when the banter was folded into the both of them, Malcolm wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to wait anymore, he didn’t necessarily like the feeling of straight shots made by her either, when it came to it, he wanted a reason to keep her at a cold opening. “Like this car?” It wasn’t a question, he eyed the gear shift, looked to the space between them and back up, what she meant was another piece of flesh snatched from his body in a blistering heat, “Get warmed up.” The smile on his lips met with an all serious gaze, “Like a dyke with a dick.” 

His eyebrows still raised, Rigs only shook his head with a slightly sarcastic smirk appearing on his face. It seemed all too obvious that this dude was at the wrong place as he had already done many things that weren’t exactly legal but he clearly didn’t have that guys wallet. Or had any brother or neighbour who might have it. “Ok, look dude! You’re stupid enough to loose you’re wallet to some shady guy who clearly doesn’t live here, there’s nothin’ I can do about it! So I suggest you an your few brain cells think about that beforehand next time!”, he stated, walking past the man and towards his front door before turning back around. “So the only thing I’d have for you is a beer! Take it or fuck off, honestly, I don’t care!”

     There was that familiar urge to press, push, shove whatever. His instincts cradled in his shoulders threatening to to react when he could smell the diesel radiating off the guy that brushed past to his actual residence. Malcolm groaned while keeping that energy that flowed through every fiber, did a little pump on the balls of his feet. He’d heard worse, mostly all went in one ear out the other until... that was definitely not what he was expecting,  “I’ll take a beer.”           

Taking off his gloves, Rigs still only stared at the man in silence with his eyebrows raised. The last thing he had wanted to deal with on his day off was someone who obviously seemed to think he was incredibly funny while still not stepping away from his front yard. “Nahh, but I know damn well that I’ll be lookin’ at some clown with a black eye if you’re not tellin’ me what the fuck you’re doing on my property. Got it?!”, he replied, not really in the mood to try and figure out who he was looking for himself. And the cocky way he was talking to him, wasn’t really something to make him like that dude any more.

      “Come on, don’t be fucking daft. Look, if it’s your brother and he’s on the spectrum and working through meth labs instead of biotech that’s fine, I don’t give a shit. Until they burn up the already barely there brain cells and I get fucked— that fucker has my wallet.” Growing more and more irritated now at this little hiccup, doubt setting in too that this was even where it was he was supposed to be, and that maybe, juuuust maybe he’d been outran and in the wrong,  “I don’t care about your property, okay. That guys got mine. So fuck it..I want it back. I want it back.”  

“Ew,” Finn said to his charming rant, the corners of her lips turning ever so slightly down in her only expression change. “Frankly, you’ve already made me put too much thought into this then I care to. Just like, start an online petition if it bothers you that much,” she suggested, her tone completely deadpan. With a blink of her eyes from the storefront back towards him, she shrugged. “I assure you, stopping people on the street and asking their opinion won’t accomplish anything. Except perhaps a call to the cops about yet another crazy person.” 

    “An online petition....an online petition.” He repeated in semi-contemplation. Did he really care? No. in the end the place would be demolished and taken over for that little thai tug in the back or the most likely, he’d walk on and forget all about the potential cum dump. “I’d rather see their reaction. It’s easy to blindly check a box.” His own box of her checking off just fine, aside from the kind of pig-ish nose, imagining a full on facial and how it might just look like a Dahmer dream skull fuck. “Ah whatever, cops are easy. So, babe—”Giving once again taking a flair to the dramatics, Malcolm hooked his own arm with hers in whatever direction, “You’ve got your fist right up in Silver Lake’s hairy snatch don’t you? Where we going now? Cus I’ll be here all day asking crunchies their thoughts but I’m bored. Take me with you, Queen.”