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Look Into My Kaleidoscope of Emotions, And Feel	By : lemonykisses Category: +S through Z > Static Shock Views: 4197 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Static Shock, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Title: Where Lust Ends, Where Love Begins
Rating: NC-17, for m/m smut
Warning(s): Very foul language, anal sex, and small blurb of oral sex, rough handling, violence, OOC, and implied lesbianism.
Disclaimer: I don’t own the song "Pretty When You Cry", Vast does. Great song. Sexy song. Powerfully suggestive song.
A/N: I just want to add that I seriously apologize for smearing the other ‘f’-word around like that. I hate it myself and it puts a very bad taste into my mouth. But it’s for the sake of being in character with F-Stop. So do not flame me for over-using it. Oh, and I switched where the singer’s saying, "her" or "she" to "him or "he" so to make sense, ya know?
Beta: Chunk: This was very cute in my opinion. ^^
blah – emphasis
blah – lyrics
F-Stop’s POV
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
That damn cocksucker did it. He makes me fall for him, just like that. How the Hell did I miss this? Sure he wants a fuck, he needs it, or so he says. He pays me good, too. Now I don’t have to steal that game system I’ve had my eye on… but the fucker did it!! It’s Foley’s fault!!
You're made of my rib bone baby
You're made of my sin
I don’t know how he finds me in all the clubs that rule New York City, but he tracks me down like the egg-headed, techno bloodhound geek that he is.
So there I am, enjoying a little T&A entertainment between these two college roommates who are very drunk, very horny, and right now 69-ing each other right on the cushioned bench next to me.
And I can't tell where your lust ends
And where your love begins
The last person who I need to see right now is suddenly in my face, begging to have a word with me.
So I give him two: "Fuck. OFF!!" Did he electrocute himself with one of his "neat-o inventions", fry his brains, and somehow thinks now we’re best buds? I don’t smell singing hair or clothes. Trust me. I know those two smells quite distinctly.
What the Hell is his problem? He won’t fuckin’ leave! Even when I hit him square in the jaw he just doesn’t get it.
Now the college girls are shooing me away. God damn, mother-fuckin’-agh! I lose it. Hey, I’m Hotstreak; the temper goes with the territory. I grab a fistful of the front of his stupid hoodie, ready to pound the ever lovin’ shit out of him when something hits me.
I didn't want to hurt you baby
I didn't want to hurt you
I didn't want to hurt you
But you're pretty when you cry
I don’t know if it’s the black light right behind me, but I never noticed how bright his eyes are. The ultraviolet rays catch the hues of blues, bring them out and making them sparkle. The tears spilling down his cheeks enhance them ten-time fold. He’s crying. The wimp is tugging at my fist clamped onto his shirt and those dorky glasses magnify his beautiful eyes…
What the Fuck?!
And the moon gives me permission
And I enter through his eyes
Once I calm him down I take him out of the club so I can hear him better. I remember him saying he wants to pay me, but I didn’t know what. Like they say: money talks. I ask him what he means by paying me and I make a snide remark about blackmail. He stammers a bit like the clumsy nerd that he is. It always makes me cackle evilly on the inside when I get anyone cowering like that. He then begins rambling about the first time we met, how he couldn’t stop thinking of me, how he’s obsessed with me-
What is this, a proposal of marriage? I don’t do faggots! I actually do call him that and his rambling stops immediately. Ah-ha, just the button I needed to push to get him to the point. His face changes and now he’s glaring at me, the smug bastard.
He's losing his virginity
And all his will to compromise
Then before I know it I’m being pressed up against the brick wall with amazing strength I never knew a stickly guy like him could posses and his tongue is rammed down my throat. Oh my God, the dirty faggot is kissing me! I shove him off me and smack him right across the face. I want to punch him, but as I remember that didn’t put a dent on his plans of screwing my ass to Timbuktu. So I bitch-slap him, that outta wake him up. God damn freak. Who does he think I am, easy? Fuck no!
He’s on his ass on the sidewalk. His bottom lip is bleeding and the blood trails down his chin, dripping on his hoodie. He’s panting like he just ran a mile in under ten seconds, and his glasses are on the ground from the force of my blow. He’s crying again... and against my will I’m getting hard.
I didn't want to hurt you baby
I didn't want to hurt you
I didn't want to hurt you
But you're pretty when you cry
I don’t know if it’s my hormones combined with the small amount of alcohol I took earlier (small because I actually want to see drunken girl-on-girl action), or my wild kink in Sadism, but just looking at him makes me want to know if he can cry any other way.
"Com’ere."
He looks at me at first, and I know the gears are turning in his pretty little head. Then he does so, slowly, crawling on all fours to me like a lost puppy. Oh my fucking God, does he have a clue what he’s doing?! He’s gotta be a virgin!
And I ask him if he is.
He nods, wet trails from his tears striping reflective glares up and down his face from the full moon shining over us.
I don’t know why, but the ‘virgin’ idea adds fuel to the flames of my libido. "This ride doesn’t come free."
As he reaches into the front right pocket of his jeans, he has to lift his hoodie up and I can easily see his own hard-on straining under his slightly baggy jeans.
I didn’t realize that I had licked my lips until I feel my tongue catching right at the corner of the right side of my mouth.
He pulls out a large sum of bills and hands them to me, all neatly folded together and secured with a thick rubber band.
When I unwrap the bundle to count it out I find they’re mostly tens, and I have to stop at two hundred before I lose my mind. Damn! This freak is serious! So I quickly pocket the cash and haul him up to his feet, shoving him face first into the wall. I may be a badass punk who has evil mutant powers, but I’m a man of my word. A fuck is what he wants; a fuck is what he’s going to get.
I didn't want to fuck you baby
I didn't want to fuck you
I didn't want to fuck you
But you're pretty when you're mine
I take his virginity right there on the wall outside of the club. I use the lube he hands me. It hasn’t been used before, even further proving my theory that he is a virgin nerd. He probably read up on it on the Internet even.
But God, he’s so tight… and warm… and so. Fucking. Tight. He’s so tense and if I don’t calm him down soon he’ll break my dick off.
In my past experiences with the ladies, they love it when I touch their tits or finger their clit while I’m fucking them. But he doesn’t have breasts… or a clit. Just a throbbing hard cock.
Fuck. The sacrifices I have to make.
I didn't really love you baby
I didn't really love you
I didn't really love you
But I'm pretty when I lie
A few strokes of his cock and he’s unwound enough for me to smoothly fuck him nice and hard. I give him no time to adjust to me because he didn’t simplify how he wanted to be fucked, and I just want this done and over with.
He seems to enjoy it more than I do, making me speed it up. This boy is also very vocal and when he finds a gay-lover, he’ll make him very happy-
Why the fuck do I care?
Oh damn. He wants me to tell him I love him!
‘Fuck no!’ Is my first reaction but he adds in to lie to him, to make him come faster.
I growl low. It can’t hurt if it does work… So I tell him in the most sultriness voice I can muster up.
You hurt me baby
What happens next has me making a mental note never to use that fucking voice ever again. One minute he’s a whimpering mess, the next he’s shrieking like I’m friggin’ killing him and his cum is all over my first as I pump it out of him. Not only does he come, his ass is trying to break my dick off again, but I’m so fucking horny that it’s feel really, really nice. I am off in my own heaven; ramming into him and filling his ass up with my own cum.
He then makes those whimpering noises again, probably not liking that I had come in him. My stomach clenches as a large dose of orgasm appears out of nowhere, having me come more into him.
Damn my kink.
I hurt you baby
I can smell blood mixed with my cum when I pull out of him. I popped his cherry; the job is done. I zip up my pants.
And he’s just trembling while still bracing the wall. His blood and my cum trails down the back of his left thigh in abstract trails. He’s really trembling hard, like he just came out of a lake in Antarctica. He wants me to leave him.
I can sense the pain I gave him through his words. I don’t move at first, thinking he’s just saying it and not really meaning it, he is a lovesick faggot after all.
(How much do you know?)
(How much do you know?)
He turns his head slightly and he yells at me to leave again.
If you knew how much I loved you
You would run away
But like an idiot I’m bending down to grab the waistbands of his boxers and jeans, hiking them over his bare ass, his just-de-virginized ass, I add in. It doesn’t strike me as funny.
(How much do you know?)
His reacts by grabbing his pants, whirling around and giving me a hard left to my right eye.
I stumble back, almost losing my balance. Reacting on instinct I punch him right back. He slams against the brick wall and slumps. He’s holding his face in one hand; the other holding his opened pants up.
But when I treat you bad
It always makes you want to stay
He muffles something behind his palm.
"What?!"
He rips his hand away and glares daggers at me, even without his glasses. He thanks me.
At first I am completely confused, when I realize that it’s for the punch I just gave him.
(How much do you know?)
I shrug, "You faggots are pussies when it comes to giving hits anyway. That’s a free lesson." That’s my way of saying ‘you’re welcome’. I’m taking it to the grave the fact that his hit will give me a fucking black eye for nearly a month.
I didn't want to hurt you baby
His lip is bleeding on the opposite side of the last hit. Not an easy feat unless you’re ambidextrous, like me. That is when I realize that I still have his cum on my hand, the one that didn’t hit him this time. It’s tacky and an oily layer across my palm, bunching in small lines where my palm folds in on itself. That shouldn’t affect me; I can’t see that without that familiar stirring of my libido coming back. But I do… and it does.
I didn't want to hurt you baby
Salty, dark, rich, and complex. That’s what his cum tastes like. All opposites of what I assume he is: sickly-sweet, pure, bland, and simple. Now I’m a fuckin’ poet, that’s just great.
But when I look in his eyes… he’s been watching me this entire time; watching me lift my hand to my mouth and licking his cum off it like vanilla ice cream just spilled on it. It kinda freaks me out seeing how eerily aroused he is. His hands are even lax enough that his jeans are slipping down his hips, inch after painful inch of his hard-on revealed to me.
I didn't want to hurt you baby
Before I know it again for the second time tonight he’s attacking me with his mouth and this time I’m biting on his lips, tasting the coppery blood, opening his cuts even more. He’s screaming in pain, but his hands are everywhere. In my hair, squeezing my ass, in my pants jerking me off. The little psycho’s a masochist!
I didn't want to hurt you baby
I shove him away and leave before I can let any of this continue. I didn’t realize I had also thrown the money back at him until I’m home and I find no cash in my pockets.
"Ah, who gives a fuck?" I feel I have to say that out loud, just in case someone is eavesdropping. Ha, I don’t need to flatter myself.
I didn't want to hurt you baby
I take a long and very hot shower, feeling like I can’t ever get his blood off me, but I didn’t sleep that night; I can’t. That fucker is on my mind ever since I left him beside that club.
(How much do you know?)
I find myself imagining scenarios of him trying to recover from the trauma I gave him. If he has told the cops I should be sleeping on a cot in a rotting jail cell by now.
(How much do you know?)
So I’m hiding out in my bedroom, only leaving it to grab a small bite to eat, since I lose my appetite whenever I have a flash of his blood and my cum soiling my dick. I also come out when the urge to use the bathroom is too great to ignore.
(How much do you know?)
I’m never paranoid, but I’ve never forced any girl to sleep with me, either. So what makes Foley so fucking different? He paid me to fuck him! And he even liked me being rough with him, so it was consensual! What is my God damn problem?!!
(How much do you know?)
It hits me like his blow to my eye from earlier… I fell for him. The pillow-biting, gadget-tinkering, geeky glasses-wearing, and sexy little blond masochist has taken me into his world…
I don’t wanna go back to mine…
THE END
If that last part confuses you, I mean that Richie has opened F-Stop’s eyes in his world (homosexuality), making the redhead see whom he really is, so he doesn’t want to go back to what he used to be. I hope that makes you all feel better about that.
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Look Into My Kaleidoscope of Emotions, And Feel