#christopherbarnes

WELCOME TO MERROCK, CHRISTOPHER!

Merrock would like to welcome Christopher Barnes, penned by Peanut. Make sure your account is submitted in 48 hours, and take a look at our welcome brochure. Can't wait to see you on dash! xx

Ches’s hands actually shake as she knocks on Christopher’s door and waits for him to let her in. No matter how much she reminded herself he wasn’t going to be mad at her, there was still a little voice lingering in the back of her mind that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t going to want to be her friend anymore when she removed the benefits.  But Jack hadn’t, Kai hadn’t, and if they didn’t - why would Christopher? “Hey, we need to talk, and I need you to promise me you’ll hear me out.” The words just flow out of her mouth the second he opens the door, her nerves getting the better of her. 

"So history buff, writer of the most beautiful texts I've ever read, and a sexy wrestler is there anything you can't do?" Ches teases Christopher as she settles down next to him on the couch with a grin. "I really should be paying more attention to sports, I can't believe that slipped through the cracks. Shame, I'd have loved to watch one of your matches." She winks, perhaps she'd really come over to see if she could make him blush and convince him to let her properly thank him for being so supportive of her but she was going to have fun doing it. "I know there's always next year, but, that's so long. Guess I'll have to keep my plans for congratulating you to myself until then." Although she wasn't sure she was still going to be messing around with him by the end of the summer. She was serious about Elliot, and while her plan was to gradually decrease the amount of sex she was having to eventually slow down to a complete stop - she already knew things could change in a heartbeat as she grew more attached to Elliot, or if he gave her cause to speed up the process.

“You’re Christopher, right?” Without even providing a proper greeting other than acknowledging the older boy’s name,  Iris approached him. “And you’re supposedly good at essay subjects, riiiight?” It was probably somewhat alarming that she was saying all of this without having introduced herself or provided any indicator of how she knew this, so she backtracked hurriedly: “sorry, my teacher said.... Mr Kipling? Teaches American Literature. Anyway, I’m failing and I need help. I’m Iris.”