#evildexd

         “ – My dad has money, I can – buy            you anything y’want, Miss Tomie –!”

on some atrocious, horrid wavelength, he feels like a goddamn fool. he’d met this girl, what, days ago? passed her on a chance meeting, and something about her. something possessed him. he’s calling her Miss Tomie, for chrissake – the boy knows he’s not himself.

& yet, she’s beautiful, her voice a liquid addiction he’s never felt in his life before, save for that – goddamn book..

                “I – Wouldn’t that be nice?                  A, a boy to buy you things,                  treat you well? This town                  can be awfully, awfully                  big, scary for a girl                  on her own.”

It’s an argument she’s heard before, time and time again- rich parents, an inheritance, a steady income coming to him when gets that job settled. She goes along with it for a while, lets herself be spoiled, and eventually meets a gruesome end that tears her into tiny little pieces. Still...the temptation of luxurious food and pearls is a siren’s song that she falls for every time, something genetic, she thinks. Whatever malignant force that wrought her into this world loved the finer things in life. Tomie considers it for a while, gives this boy another once-over, quirks a dark eyebrow. 

“You sound awfully earnest, don’t you? Well-intentioned, even.” She speaks slowly, still weighing the words in her mind and mouth. A well-manicured finger rises to trace along his jaw, prominent and sure. “Do you want to take care of me? Protect me? Love me forever? Offer me the things that you think I can’t get from any other backwards peasant in this town?” 

Tomie laughs softly, puts that finger on his lips and applies pressure, like she wants to force her way in.   

“Okay, just, uh -- “

There was a incredibly long line for coffee and, while Kitty would usually just wait, she had quite a full day of plans ahead of her and she was on a bit of a schedule. Besides, the same girl was behind the counter who almost always worked when Kitty came in. She’d just get her usual and get out.

“’Scuse me. Sorry. Sorry, my bad. Lena, just the regular coffee?”

(Stomach Kiss)

Lips traced blindly across moonlit flesh, feeling what smoothness he couldn’t quite make out with his eyes, the dip near Ashley’s navel where clear creek water beaded, slicking his lazy smooches across the other’s stomach. A long, tiresome night of workin’ the ol’ chainsaw in overdrive, and his shoulders ached like crazy. 

He was currently flopped on top of his lover like an impossibly heavy, tired dog while they waited for their clothes to dry on a nearby branch, fit between his legs and not really caring that their collective weight might be denting the precious hood of his already severely dented car. Their towels were all stained to shit and impossibly disgusting, and while on the run it seemed like air drying in the hot summer night was the best option. 

It also beat sitting on the road for another several hours while his knees cramped and his ass ached. “You still awake, kid?” he asked, thumb ghosting over a freshly acquired wound on the male’s middle, but never quite touching it. It was only a matter of time until his road map of scars would be transferred onto Ashley, and with each new one he felt a mild pang of guilt.

         ❛ OH, don’t tell me your s c a r e d of clowns ❜