“Ughh!” A visceral moan of agony sounds throughout the room. Suck and Swallow come rushing in. “What is it, sir?” they ask in gleeful unison.
“Bryce is gone.” Bobby is spread out on his couch with a cigarette in one hand and the other theatrically thrown over his brow.
“She left you?!” cries Swallow.
“No you dumb fucks, she’s at work.”
The two look at each other, one brow raising on each of their respective faces. Oh brother.
“Can we help, sir?” Suck asks, turning back to him.
“Ghh- Fuckin’. . probably.” he sighs, rolling his eyes and throwing his hand out in aggravation as if Bryce’s high paying, one-percenter career that gets him everything he could ever materially want is the absolute bane of his existence. Bobby spreads his knees and Suck gets between them by conditioning, gazing up to him with big patient eyes as the terrorist takes a drag of his cigarette and opens his phone to buy some new shoes on some designer site with his girlfriend's black card.
Bryce stumbles through the door, throwing her heels off and kneading her feet through black nylons. She can't get there fast enough.
"Hello Miss Tankthrust!" Suck and Swallow flutter excitedly into the room, taking her coat. Bryce couldn't match their energy right now if she tried.
"Hello boys." she sighs, exhaustion painting her brow. "Ap-, watch the merchandise."
"Yes ma'am." says Suck.
"Yes ma'am." follows Swallow, missing the mark to match him in unison. He bares his teeth in apology as Suck gives him an aggravated look.
As the first gets her jacket and the other retrieves her shoes, they both leave to go put each garment away as carefully as they can for her. A soft, involuntary whine emits as she rubs a particularly sore muscle in her heel. The sound, along with the previous exchange, alerts Bobby and he's in the doorway in his latex bodysuit and a harness — a casual outfit for his typical BDSM casserole of a fashion sense. Bryce glances up to him, showing him the disclaimer on her face displaying how tired she is. I'm not in the mood for bullshit tonight so you better not have fucked anything up too bad that I have to spend more than ten minutes fixing it, it reads clearly.
"Awwww, look at how fuckin' drained you are."
"N'yeah, you can tell?" she asks sarcastically, shaking her hair out with her fingers.
"You look like you smeared charcoal under your eyes." He looks her up and down, watching her take her necklace off and gently lowering the chain onto the kitchen counter.
"How do you know I didn't?" she mumbles, rubbing her neck for moment before remembering she has a boyfriend. "Do this for me." she points to the angle that's bothering her.
"Do n'is f'r me." he mocks all the while prancing over to her and starting on her neck with bony hands.
"Mm. . Y'know what I love about you?"
"My massive fuckin' schlong?" Bobby jokes, really emphasizing on the phallic in that neurotic way he does most things. Bryce nods slowly, feeling the tensity in her muscles ease and revert back to normal as he unties every little knots.
"Hm. Yes. But your hands. It's a cliche but still, you got great hands. You aren't afraid to dig deep." she trails off.
"Like that?" He shows her exactly why she said that, one knuckle easily finding a sore spot and pushing hard — he knows her well enough by now to guess where she gets the tightest after a long day. Bryce gasps, mouthing opening to the sudden jolt of pain that follows before he immediately soothes it with his thumb. Don't get him wrong, no one else would get that quick of a recovery. No one else would get a recovery at all. . or a fucking massage!
"Aw—! Jesus, fuck!" she cries and Bobby grins, no attempt to hide the malicious intent before leaning in quick to playfully bite at her neck, easily bringing a beam back to her face. This sick fuck could be the absolutely sweetest when he felt like it. "Ah–" Her brow eases, sharp chin tilting outward. Pale lips are parted with the smile. "Fucking sap."
Bobby suddenly jolts back from her, offended, glaring.
"Woah there bucko, I did noooot say to stop." Bryce turns to him and nods to the left, beckoning him back over to her. "Get over here."
"Ooh. Yes ma'am."