Kaitlyn
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![[*]](./images/pretend/default_icon.gif) posted on 12-20-2007 at 02:15 AM |
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Gallery Main Entrance
Welcome to the Waldorf Allen Gallery of Fine Arts.
Admission Fee: $10.00
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Clive
Macabre/Surreal Artist [3d/painting]
Posts: 378
Registered: 6-27-2008
Member Is Offline
Mood: speedballing
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| posted on 8-23-2008 at 04:01 AM |
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Enemy? The notion only could give him quite a laugh, surely not thinking of this man as his enemy. He was his prey, his toy, even if he was the
physically weaker. It was just so easy to trip up the big guys with a few quick words and sly looks. Knowing how annoyed the man got as he mentioned
his wife, lips curving in a devilish smile.
"She's a lovely lady, I cannot help trying to make up for your misgivings to her-" Quick words, snappy words, smirking as he wondered if the male had
even caught them to begin with. Instead he was just being ushered outside, arm extended and told he'd be taught a few manners.
And left on the sidewalk whimpering.
Would he now? He could only laugh, stepping in front of him as he just walked ahead, slipping out the front door of the large gallery and waiting. Ian
soon came after, standing there with his arms crossed as he looked to the solider before him with a grin, and then...
A loud crack was heard, his fists balled in the males shirt as he shoved him back against that wall, letting his head knock against it with the force
as he just quietly, and coldly laughed in his ear. Right in his ear, lips nearly touching it for that teasing taste. "You're such a dumbass, Ian." His
words were whispered, hand reaching up as he gripped the males face, nails digging in as he forced him to look to him. "Gullible fuck, no wonder
you're in the Army."
I'm fixing a hole where the rain gets in
and stops my mind from wandering
where it will go.
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Ian
Army Command Sergeant Major
Posts: 188
Registered: 4-8-2008
Location: Fort Nixon
Member Is Offline
Mood: Army Strong
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| posted on 8-23-2008 at 04:12 AM |
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He frowned as the man stepped ahead to lead the way outside, unsure if he heard the words or not, not caring to think about it too much. Just
following that lean dark frame out the door, frowning as he saw people trying to speak to the man, reaching out and wishing Clive to just look at
them. What the hell?
Frown never leaving his face once they stepped outside, standing there just waiting for the prick to make his move. Apparently he liked the sneak
attack, the weak usually did after all. “Fucker.” Growling that out as his head cracked against the wall, that was all he needed was his
head to be busted open again. But that was the last word he said for a while. Knowing. Knowing by the way he was gripped up, lips near his
ear and words flicking out that it had all been a game. Those black eyes knew who he was, what they had done together.
He did not try to get away, did not try to push the man away, he just stood there. Letting his head fall back and closed his eyes as he felt the
misery wash over his entire being. “Who are you?” It was all he could get out, eyes finally opening and glaring into the others,
searching to make sense of what was going on here.
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Clive
Macabre/Surreal Artist [3d/painting]
Posts: 378
Registered: 6-27-2008
Member Is Offline
Mood: speedballing
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| posted on 8-23-2008 at 04:20 AM |
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Such a pissy little man, wasn't he? Always bitching about something, annoyed by something else - mad Clive got attention now it seemed. But for what
reason? Because he felt it was undeserved.. or because he wanted it himself?
He'd love to ask that question. But right now, he had far more important things to do. Like throw him against the wall, not caring if it made him
weaker for sneaking on him. Not caring at all, just enjoying the crack on the wall and the annoyance in the man's voice. Fucker, of course he was. And
he loved every moment of it.
Feeling the man get weak there, not even trying to get away or punch him was sorely dissapointing, gripping harder at his face as he looked to him
instead, that question pulling a brittle laugh from his lips as he just sighed. "I'm Clive Ballantine, Ian Bratton." He whispered, head resting
against his shoulder for a moment as he let out that callous grin. "You know, the man you tried so hard to pretend you didn't want to see again?" Ha.
I'm fixing a hole where the rain gets in
and stops my mind from wandering
where it will go.
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Ian
Army Command Sergeant Major
Posts: 188
Registered: 4-8-2008
Location: Fort Nixon
Member Is Offline
Mood: Army Strong
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| posted on 8-23-2008 at 04:39 AM |
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He wasn’t annoyed the man got attention, he just did not know why the hell he was getting it. And Ian never liked when he did not understand
what was going on in a situation. He needed the control after all. Though soon it came together, hearing that name. Remembering when Ivanna had
squealed with delight and danced about the house over her excitement of this evening, and how he had laughed over anyone named Ballantine, thinking it
such an stupid name. Now it all made sense.
So he laughed. Deep chuckles shaking his large chest as he brought one hand up, ignoring the ones on his face, and rubbed at his eyes. “Yeah.
You would be. Pansy all around, aren’t you, making little art with your baby hands just like a little momma’s boy or some shit.”
Both of his hands suddenly up and yanking the man’s away, switching their positions as he gripped that expensive collar up. “I never had
to pretend anything, Clive, I never want to see your fucking face again.” Lifting him close for a moment before slamming him back
against the wall for that blissful sounding crack. Eye for an eye, etc. “Now-“ Letting go of queer and stepping back, wanting to slam
his fist into that cocky face, but knowing it would probably get out somehow and Ivanna would be pissed at him. “I am going to find my wife,
then leave.” Turning on his heel to walk away was the hardest thing he had ever done, only because he wanted to beat the living shit out of
that bastard.
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Clive
Macabre/Surreal Artist [3d/painting]
Posts: 378
Registered: 6-27-2008
Member Is Offline
Mood: speedballing
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| posted on 8-23-2008 at 04:55 AM |
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Such a little brat. Needing control, needing power - did he feel useless without it? Clive seemed to think though, looking at the way he was almost
limp in his hands there. For once not cockily thinking it was because of of his touch, but because he just didn't understand. Because he was cornered
and powerless, held up by that thinner male only by his own spirit allowing it.
But then he was laughing, Clive finally growing a smile, knowing the man was coming back to life, eyes rolling as he was called a pansy and a momma's
boy, laughing out at the mere notion of it all. Considering his life? Hardly. But it was easier to let the foolish just belief what they wished, the
words hardly a thing to him. "You don't want to see me again? Oh... my poor little heart-" He spat in return, letting his body get slammed against
that wall, hardly feeling much with the drugs pumping through him, laughing quietly as the man backed up and just started to walk on off. Oh!
Did he honestly think he'd get away so easily? Clive could only smirk, head tilting as he whistled low upon his breathe. "Ah, I wouldn't go doing
that, it'd spoil more than her fun tonight-" He murmured, stepping back towards him as he just circled the man, hand tracing about his shoulders,
gripping him up suddenly with his tie, snatching him close with a devilish grin. "Imagine how broken she'd see her husband in some scandalous sex tape
of mine..." His words just a whisper, leaning in as he nipped at his ear, although he near well took it off in his annoyance at the other male. Heated
annoyance, surely - enjoying every moment of it. "I wouldn't blame her for leaving you, you were wild in that thing."
I'm fixing a hole where the rain gets in
and stops my mind from wandering
where it will go.
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Ian
Army Command Sergeant Major
Posts: 188
Registered: 4-8-2008
Location: Fort Nixon
Member Is Offline
Mood: Army Strong
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| posted on 8-23-2008 at 05:09 AM |
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Poor little heart indeed. Bastard's heart had to be black as they come to live the way he did, drugs and all that . . . homosexual stuff. Sick man
he was, and it came out in that freaky art that made no sense and everyone talked about the ‘deeper meaning’ behind it all. Deeper
meaning his ass. Ugh, not the right words to use.
But then he froze, could not walk any more. And Ian felt his world crumble beneath his feet. How he stayed upright he had no idea. It was as though
all the feeling left his entire body, not even noticing that chop on his ear, he was seeing red, fists clinched as he fought down the bile which
wanted to rise up and choke his last breathe. Filmed. He had been filmed that night. God. A low moan deep in his throat from misery. Teeth
clinched so tight his words were hard to understand as he tried to speak. “Are you telling me.” Having to stop and fight the need to
puke. “You filmed us?” Eyes darting to that bastard with hatred burning in them. “I do not believe you.”
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Clive
Macabre/Surreal Artist [3d/painting]
Posts: 378
Registered: 6-27-2008
Member Is Offline
Mood: speedballing
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| posted on 8-23-2008 at 05:26 AM |
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All that homosexual stuff. Stuff Ian had graciously contributed to, no question about that. Even high there was no lack of 'self awareness', Clive
knowing well from the amount of punches he'd received from men who couldn't stand the thought. Never had once entertained it in their head. Ian had,
or had some reason to let himself give in. Clive liked to lean towards annoyance with his wife, although now he was surely showering the woman with
gifts it seemed.
And now it was his turn! What a lovely gift this would be, smirking as Ian just nearly collapsed at the thought, Clive holding tightly onto his shirt
as his fingers traced down his shirt, twisting that tie over his hand with a grin. "Well, I hadn't gone in intending to do anything but get you high
and fuck your straight brains out-" He whispered, voice low and deep against his ear with a smirk. "Things didn't quite go as planned, though. You
ended up fucking me nice and hard-" Emphasis on the adjectives just to bother the man, nails digging in with a smirk. "I forget I even had
cameras in there. Stupid teens love to steal my shit, but I left the camera on... it caught your every moan, the way you pinned me down..." His voice
drifting off, backing up then with a laugh, arms folding over his chest with a smirk. "If you don't believe me, go ahead, Ian. Walk off, you and your
wife can just watch it together later. Who knows, she might be the kind who gets turned on by that sort of thing..."
I'm fixing a hole where the rain gets in
and stops my mind from wandering
where it will go.
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Ian
Army Command Sergeant Major
Posts: 188
Registered: 4-8-2008
Location: Fort Nixon
Member Is Offline
Mood: Army Strong
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| posted on 8-23-2008 at 05:42 AM |
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No! It had just been the drugs, had to be. HAD to be. He couldn’t live with himself if it were not. Too ingrained form his parents and
everyone else in his life to hate all gays, they were the foul of the earth, needed to be smote by God and rid the world of their disgusting
corruptness. HE was NOT one of them. He was NOT. He did not have the tendencies, that was disgusting. It was foul. It had been one of the best
orgasms he ever had. Shit, he was not going to think about that.
His eyes squeezed shut as Clive just went on and on. Hating every word but afraid . . . God, he was so afraid to react. Afraid to do what he wanted
to do, knowing he would not kill the fucker but wanting too. No, he just wanted to leave him beaten and broken. But if he did that then the guy
would get better, and that tape would be sent to his family, sent to Ivanna. Ian could not bear that. Could not bear loosing those he loved because
of this man.
And now that Ivanna had found her brother there was just one more mess to add to this pile of shit. He knew a man like his brother-in-law would not
deal well with the little sister getting hurt. Dmitri would kill him for that alone, and God only knew how much pain Ivanna would give him, probably
kill him herself, screw the brother.
He was a man trapped, he never felt so weak in all his life. So he stood there, body going into that military rest position, face hard and eyes
shooting fire. “Alright, Mr. Ballantine, what do you want from me. Obviously you are not trying to get money, you have enough of that with
your shitty art. So what is it you are after? Want me to find you some gays in the military to bring for you little boy toy sick pleasures.”
Voice taunting and full of hate, hate for the both of them right now.
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Clive
Macabre/Surreal Artist [3d/painting]
Posts: 378
Registered: 6-27-2008
Member Is Offline
Mood: speedballing
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| posted on 8-23-2008 at 06:00 AM |
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Poor guy. He almost felt bad, but that temporary emotion only lasted a second. And then he was back to his usual self, knowing this fool needed the
wake up call. Controlling those who had to have all the power themselves was such a turn on for him, honestly. He could've well just shoved that guy
back behind the building right there and gone at it, but he kept himself down for now.
He could just sense his fear, pale hand tracing down the side of the male's face with a purr, shushing him like some child before he backed on up,
watching the male before him standing so tall, reaching into his own pocket as he pulled out that packet, lighting up that hand rolled 'cigarette'
before the other as he quietly puffed away. His questions just rising a laugh from him, smoke filtering out in spurts as he looked to the man before
him. Stepping in close then, lean, track marked arm wrapping about the mans shoulders as he suddenly reached down, hand sliding over the crotch of
his pants as their lips touched. Faintly, broken by a laugh of his own.
"You only wish it'd be that easy, huh?" He whispered, backing away again, smoothing out the mess of his hair with a hard drag of that cigarette upon
the side. "I don't know what I want, Ian Bratton. But when I do, don't think I won't find you. Your commanding officers are quite friendly men, as I'm
sure you know." Smirk. Stepping back in, he could only mess with that tie again, folding it over his fingers with a dark look shot towards the male.
"I am not some pussy queer, Ian. After all, look at all I've made you do!"
I'm fixing a hole where the rain gets in
and stops my mind from wandering
where it will go.
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