Life's a Gamble
- Locked due to inactivity on Aug 4, '16 4:33pm
Thread Topic: Life's a Gamble
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"Oh. Yeah, sorry. No more setting stuff on fire. Just say it was an accident, or something," He mumbled, waving a hand to dismiss the topic. He took the packet of Ramen, and broke off a piece, eating it raw. He liked it better than way, always had liked it better that way, for no real reason, other than he didn't really like strong flavors. "Did he do something? Not yet, not really. Rather, something that he's going to do. Expects me to do," He mumbled, closing his eyes, shivering at the thought of it. Mitchel had never been with anyone, man or woman before. "He wants me to have sex with him," He explained finally, setting the remaining Ramen on the counter. "Part of the conditions of him not killing my father. I give him my body, he doesn't murder Papa, and I keep giving him my body until Papa pays off his debt. Is he going to be home soon? It's kinda late."
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Jerry sighed, finally giving up. He turned, bending down, pulling out two mini bottles of wine. He walked over to Mitchel, holding one of them out. "Of course. Just an accident." He looked at the bottle in his hands for a long time before twisting the cap off and setting it down on the counter. The cool liquid seemed to revive the blonde as he responded. "So that's why he brought you in, huh? I thought he was going to make you be a new recruit or hold you for ransom. Sheesh.." Another swig and a shake of his head. "It'll be a good thirty minutes until he gets back. He likes to spend some of cash he goes to collect. To be honest, he's a huge spender. But it's always on the weirdest things.. Why, do you want him to come back? Worried for him, maybe? Please don't hurt me for asking that," he added swiftly.
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"I'm just wondering how much time I have left," He mumbled, shrugging. He abandoned the Ramen, grabbed another wine bottle from the chest, and started heading towards the stairs. "I'm going to go take a bath," He explained, holding both of the bottles in one hand. Truthfully, Mitchel had never drank before, but why not? He went up to Allan's room, and shut the door, going into the bathroom. He didn't shut that one, so that steam could escape. He ran a hot bath, downing one of the bottles sip by sip while the tub filled up. By the time he stripped off his boxers and sank into the water, those thirty minutes had passed, the other bottle was empty, and he couldn't form a single thought.
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(OMG drunk Mitchel having sex with an injured Allan)
After the thirty minutes were up, just as Jerry had said, Allan and Maria were back. However, Maria was bleeding from gunshots in her right shoulder and left hand, and Allan had taken shots through his shoulder and somewhere near his waist. Maria was rushed to the little hospital room while Jerry took care of Allan right in the entryway. As soon as he was wrapped up, Allan put his glasses on, walking up the steps with a look of slight pain on his face. He didn't say a word as he entered his room, slamming and locking the door. When he felt the steam coming from the bathroom, he figured it was Mitchel. Irritated, the mafia boss walked into the doorway, looking down at the boy. The first thing he saw were the bottles of wine sitting at the edge of the tub. He knew the teen was a virgin, and he seemed pretty innocent despite his snappy attitude. However, he also knew the kid wasn't a drinker. The thought of Mitchel being drunk freaked the injured man out. "Oh my god. Mitchel, you didn't.." -
Mitchel sneered, not bothering to try and cover himself. As he spoke, he drug words out, and slurred others, clearly intoxicated. "Wh-what'sh wrooong? Mr. Shtarkey, ya' notall' pissshed, are youuu? It wash good wine, by the wa-way," He giggled a bit, and tried to get out of the tub, tripping over the side, sprawling onto the floor. He got up, moving over to the man, pulling his tucked in shirt out of his belt. "Hey," He mumbled, trying to undress Allan with numb hands that didn't seem to work right. He gave up, making an unintelligent sound. "You're bleeeeding. Why're you bleeding? You ca-can'tha be bleeding if you're go-gonna f--- meee." His drunk, blurred mind had made it to where Mitchel was just trying to get it over with, that it'd all be good if he did.
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Allan snorted, staring at the drunk Mitchel. Even though the boy had only had two small bottles, he was heavily intoxicated, and the raven could smell it well. "No, I'm not pissed. I'm actually more worried than anything.. Oh, I know. That's why we're stalked to the brim with it." Not wanting to get the bandages wet, the older watched Mitchel practically trip out of the tub and fall onto the floor. He didn't seem to be fazed, though, as he got up soon after and came over to Allan. A laugh escaped him as the drunk teen tried to undress him. He gently shoved the boy away, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it to the side. His right shoulder was covered in bandages, and they trailed down to his waist, where several layers were covering it. Only the left side of his chest was bare, showing off the tattoo. He brushed past Mitchel, picking up a towel. "Are you saying I can't f--- you if I'm injured? This happens all the time.. I mean, not to me, but most of our jobs get us injured. I'll tell you the story when you're not drunk," Allan tossed the towel at him. "Dry yourself off. I don't need you getting my bed all wet."
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"I wash gonnaaaa dump iche on your behd," He giggled, but nodded, moving to dry off with a towel. He was wobbling, and fell into the wall several times, but managed to soak most of the water up. He didn't bother to unplug the tub, but rather went to the bedroom, falling face down onto the bed. For a few minutes, he didn't move. He rolled back over eventually, though, staring at Allan. A bit of seriousness seemed to have creeped back into his mind. "It'sh gonna.. Gonna hurt, huh?" Right away, the seriousness faded, and he giggled again, covering himself with the blankets. "Mr. Shtarkey, I jusht wannnnaaa shleep.. Can I jusht?" He whined a bit now, started to feel a headache coming on.
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"Oh, were you? I would have made you sleep on that ice, then," Allan teased as the teen struggled to stand. He would have helped, but by the time he was ready to, Mitchel had wandered into the bedroom and plopped himself onto the bed. Sighing, the older unplugged the tub before following him into the bedroom. When he came in, Mitchel was staring at him. "..Yeah, it'll hurt. But, I've got stuff that will make it not hurt so much. And, if you promise to be better than you were today, I might not go as hard as I was planning to.." He sat at the edge of the bed, watching the nude teen cover himself up with blankets. "Allan, baby, call me Allan. No.." He hovered over the younger, gazing down at him. "You wanted to get it over with, didn't you? Let's do that. It'll be quick. Promise," he grinned. "Think you can do that for me?"
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"I don't wannnnaa," He whined, pressing back into the bed, "My head hurths," He complained, closing his eyes and rolling onto his side. Mitchel was clearly going to be difficult for Allan. "Mr. Shtarkey," He repeated, squirming out from under the other, and other the other side of the bed, "I don't wannnnna." Mitchel was clearly an emotional drunk, as tears pricked at his eyes, and slid down his cheeks. "I juhst.. Juhst wanna go hooome," He mumbled, rolling onto his stomach to hide his face in a pillow.
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"You can take Advil for it, but you're the one who started it.. Hey, get back here!" Allan, startled that Mitchel had moved out from under him, moved and laid on top of him with a snort. He winced when his shoulder hit Mitchel's arm, but otherwise, he was fine lying there. He knew he wouldn't be crushing the boy, either, since he didn't weigh much. "You wanna go home, huh? Well, you are home. This is your home. Get used to it.." He muttered the last part, closing his eyes. "I know you hate my guts, and you're only accepting me because you're drunk, but I promise I'll try to make this place feel like home. Even if your first home wasn't full of a bunch of wanna be rich men and women. What's mine is yours.. But remember this." Without warning, Allan slipped under the bed sheets, pinning Mitchel down. "What's yours is also mine. Got it, Mitchel?"
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"I-I don't w-wanna be y-yoursh," He sobbed, twisting around under Allan. "D-Don't t-touch m-m-me," He begged, kicking, just a little. A seering pain cut through his clouded thoughts, and he stopped struggling, crying pitifully. His head was throbbing now, and he wanted Allan gone, wanted to go home, and didn't want to stay in this stupid place with this stupid man. He couldn't form words to tell Allan that, though, so he just layed there crying, wishing for the man to leave him alone, but knowing that it wasn't going to happen, even in his intoxicated state.
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"Isn't that too bad, Mitchel? Or should I call you Mitchy? Did your father ever call you that?" Allan didn't want to screw with a crying teenager. He knew that even if he stopped sobbing, he'd end up crying because of the pain, but that was different from the drunk tears. He really didn't like having to listen to the gaspy breaths Mitchel was taking while crying. "Look.. I'm sorry your in pain. But ya didn't get shot today. You didn't have to run from the police. So lighten up, butter cup. And shut up while you do that." He wrestled his own pants off, kicking them aside. "C'mon, Mitchy. Relax. You aren't gonna die."
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Mitchel was still face down in the pillow, and, eventually, his sobbing subsided to soft whimpering, and then nothing- He had fallen asleep. He hadn't meant to, of course, but had passed out from being purely exhausted. At least his head wasn't hurting anymore, even though if it was, it probably wouldn't have effected him anyways. He was in one of those thoughtless, blank sleeping states. Mitchel just hoped that Allen would leave him alone.
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Allan stared, waiting for Mitchel to say something. When he didn't, he got worried, and turned the boy over. He relaxed when he realized that the boy was fine, merely sleeping. For a moment, he wanted to force the teen awake, to make him have sex with him right then and there. But they were both too tired, and Allan wasn't in the mood with his injuries. Groaning, the older lied down on the other side of the bed, slightly irritated that Mitchel was sleeping on his favorite side. Instead of sleeping, however, he stared at the boy in hopes he'd wake up.
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Mitchel did wake up- When he rolled off the bed, taking the covers with him. He was used to his bed being up against the wall, and this one was in the middle of the room. It was also higher off the ground, and he hit the hardwood floor with a heavy thud, and a soft cry. He sat up, rubbing his head, which was now throbbing really, really bad. He wanted to cry, but didn't, slowly, slowly getting up. "H-Hey, where did my clothes go? W-We didn't.. Oh, god, we didn't, right?'
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