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David Strilonde is a man of many and varied talents. Puppets, fortunately, aren't something that he can count on to be in his wheelhouse. Which is why he'd turned to his younger brother who'd instantly insisted he knew the perfect guy for this movie. An assertion David hadn’t questioned at the time because between the two of them Dirk would be the one with a better understanding of puppeting. (Puppeteering? Puppatoring?) David had naively appointed the kid to the job of figuring out who to hire while he focused on shitting out a script awful enough to make the Betty Crocker Pictures board go into hysterics long enough to let him get some real work done.
An obvious mistake in hindsight.
From the second Dirk insists on going to the prototype meeting with the puppet studio David gets the feeling he really won’t like working with this Ambrose Strider guy at all, and like the thought of Dirk working with him even less. Which is a bit late seeing as the kid has been solely responsible for hiring and all the communication with the guy up till now. Maybe its because some of Rosie's all seeing bullshit is rubbing off on him, or maybe, just maybe David's starting to develop that fabled super power called common fucking sense. Because something sure as fuck kicks up to red alert when his little brother walks out of his room in his best anime bitch outfit that he only wears these days for two purposes. To stir shit up with any number of people with problems that end with -phobic, or to get laid.
"Dirk, no," David says after a solid minute of watching Dirk tie up the creamsicle orange hightops that cap off the Japanese schoolgirl uniform that's been way too fucking small for his lanky ass frame since his junior year of high school. Which was coincidentally the last parent/teacher talk David had attended due to said outfit, because the school had wised up to Dirk's game and started rewriting their policies to be as detailed as possible in an effort to close any easily exploitable loopholes. A futile effort with Dirk who can smell them ten miles out.
"Dirk, yes," the kid says with a flat tone of voice as he stands up and crosses his arms over his chest. He's got to have altered the thing somehow because David swears the last time he saw it the seams were straining and now they look perfectly fine. "We're going to be late if we don't leave now. I put too much work into getting Bro in on this project to have him jump ship now."
What kind of douche bag goes by Bro? David shakes the distracting thought away to focus on the important bits standing right in front of him. His not underage brother (thanks Rosie, he knows he doesn't need to insert his nose that far into Dirk's business but he can't just turn off the instinct alright?) who is dressed for easy access for this meeting.
"Were you working on your knees?" Jesus fucking Christ, David wants to immediately jump back and punch himself for letting Dirk get as involved as he has been with this movie. He clearly wasn't thinking when he allowed his brother to meet with someone he's fairly sure is David's age (if not older and fatter and probably a complete creep too) alone without questioning it. "I don't need the help that bad for this project you could've at least saved the VIP treatment for some high tier acting talent."
Not that David needs to exchange sexual favors to get any actor he wants. He can talk around anyone he needs to given enough time, and save the sexual favor exchange for later when business is very much not involved, thank you very much.
"Nah, I tried to offer up my soul but the dude's pretty savvy and recognized it was worth shit. So I had to promise my first born child instead," Dirk gets tired of waiting and starts walking out the door. Forcing David to follow to keep the conversation going.
"Sucker's deal, your first born kid is going to be some kind of murder robot hellbent on destroying humanity for having the arrogance to give birth to it," David doesn't for a moment believe that's all to the matter because Dirk's still walking out like he's headed out to party. Something that has become its own special source of stress for David since Dirk turned eighteen and started bringing home progressively older guys for no other reason (not really no reason but he's a good enough brother not to talk about the whole Jake thing) than to give David more gray hairs.
Which, fine, yes, his kid is no longer a kid. He's exploring his boundaries, freewill, and is more than able to consent to blah, blah, blah. Rosie's psychobabble about it is in no way any comfort to David when he wakes up to a dude ten years older than him making pancakes in his own kitchen alright? Aside from the fact that the kid doesn't actually have an age kink (rebounding is a bitch Dirk will never admit to) David will never fully be over the older brother urge to protect him. No matter how much it irritates Dirk and leads to the frosty almost screaming fights they haven't had since Dirk first started to hit puberty.
Arguments that they’ve had often enough lately that Rosie had weighed in once again on their last blow out, and her advice to him to ignore it all echoes in his head. It rattles around like a Salvation Army Santa fleecing the masses outside of Walmart for pity coins that he fully plans to skim off of later for a latte from Starbucks. Coins just plink right into the empty hole and where they come out nobody knows! Just like how Rosie’s nice and sane advice goes shooting off into the void as David decides he’s going to break this Strider’s goddamn face no matter how much Dirk might glare at him for it.
“Bro would be a good mentor to the robo antichrist,” Dirk agrees easily from the car waiting for it to be unlocked. “The dude builds top of the line goods so it’s not much skin off my back if you fuck this deal up. Just means his commissions open back up sooner and I’ve already sold him your ass twice over for the next spot.”
Dave's reminded exactly why he thought it was a good idea to put Dirk in charge of looking at puppets (this kid and his fucking kinks) in the first place. It's amazing how easily Dirk manages to calm one concern and flip it so completely in another direction with only a few words. It's a skill he's been developing since birth specifically to fuck with David.
David unlocks the car and tilts his shades down enough to glare over the top at his brother. "There will be absolutely no puppet fucking done today. None, nein, nil, zip, zilch, nada! I don't care if you've found your fluff filled soulmate with glassy eyes, there are some things that man is never meant to know. And by man I mean me specifically, and by know I mean anything at all about your weird ass kinks. Got it?"
"Only talk about your boring ass kinks while in the shop, and ruin any illusory bit of game you might have had. Got it," Dirk slides into the car and immediately pushes the seat back as far as it will go so he can sprawl out. "Get in loser, we're going shopping for some sexy ass puppets."
David's still not convinced he wants to work with Strider by the time they pull up to the studio. Which is as much the bad first impression as the very deep concerns he now has about what he might find waiting for him in the studio.
“So, tell me again why I’ve got to work with this guy,” David throws the car into park but pointedly doesn’t turn it off for a moment. He is in fact giving serious thoughts to just pulling out and driving away again no matter how far behind that will push his filming schedule. “Besides the fact he’s catering to your puppet fetish.”
Though if he's going to bail he'll have to give some serious thought into an excuse to give his people why he won't work with Strider. They're all feeling the crunch of time on this one and he's not completely sure one of his assistants won't straight up murder him if he rocks the boat too much now. (His money is on Vantas, but the others could surprise him.)
It can't be because he’s a new name in Hollywood with only two movies and a television show to credit under his name. David’s worked with plenty of people with little to no reputation and he’s found just as many genuine gems as he’s found utter trash. It’s always worth it to give an unknown a chance to shine. Especially with his movies, David can spin even the worst work to his favor given enough time to bullshit his way through to the end.
Nor can it be because the studio is in a worn down strip mall joint that’s dangerously close to a talent agency he’s sure got shat straight up out of the pits of hell. There’s an agency on nearly every corner of retail zoned space in the city, and David’s met with collaborators in worse places during his career. The condition of their work space never reflects on the quality of work that gets produced.
It can't even be the fact that he needs to cede more than the usual amount of control to someone else because he's not even going to try to pretend to understand what's needed to shoot puppets. David’s used to collaborating on his movies. It’d been a hard lesson to learn for him at first. He hadn’t wanted to give up a single ounce of control over his artistic vision at all, but it only took a couple mental break downs for him to learn to just fucking delegate some shit. Not all of it, but enough to make sure his tragically young death would be to something cooler than simple stress.
It’s easier to let go of control, he’s found, when it’s something he’s not very familiar with. When he’s forced to consult and collaborate with experts in the field. Over the years he’s met a lot of those kinds of people and forged a lot of connections that’ve only made his movies better. Made him push the boundaries of what he's comfortable with technically as well as intellectually. It’s gotten to the point where David starts writing scenes that he knows will force him to seek consultants just to be able to meet new people. Usually starting a new movie and making the rounds to meet people in their various workshops is one of the most exciting parts of his work.
Usually, usually, usually. He's been throwing that word around a lot lately even though there's nothing usual at all about this movie.
Usually David isn’t working under a strict deadline to push out the shittiest, most ironic movie of his life to date. Isn’t threading the fine line of legal clauses put in place by an out of touch board of old, white, men. All of them breathing down his neck and looking for any reason to take him to court. Clutching a devil’s contract in their sweaty hands like a new prisoner gripping his bar of soap the first night he goes to shower in the communal block. Sudsing his hands and nubile body nervously while ignoring the hungry gazes of the lifers around him who haven't seen such a choice piece of ass in years. His fingers tremble with the knowledge that it’s only a matter of time before the slippery bar escapes him forcing him to bend over to retrieve it and exposing his vulnerable, virgin asshole to the wicked wiles of the larger men around him.
The bar of soap being the stupidly awful five movie contract past David had signed when he was an ignorant noob to BC Pictures, and the asshole being the absolute assfucking their wallets will get once David finishes this final movie and takes his cashcow (thank fuck he’d refused to sign anything giving up IP or name rights) fully off to better pastures. The sweet smell of freedom on the horizon is enticing and smells an awful lot like hair gel.
Wait, no, that’s just Dirk.
“You need Bro on this one. He gets exactly what you’re going for with the script,” Dirk picks at the pleats of the skirt, fussily straightening non-existent wrinkles. David’s sure that if the kid thought he could get away with it he’d have spent the last five minutes of the drive primping his hair to make sure each individual strand fell into perfect alignment with whatever scheme he’s got cooking in that messed up brain of his.
“Uh huh, you're really selling the talent here, kid,” David nods and decides they’re not leaving after all. He might be just a little out of line blaming Strider for the stress that is Dirk being himself. For all he knows Strider's just some poor puppet maker that's found himself in the unenviable position of having something Dirk wants, and he really should give the guy a fair chance to make his own bad impression.
David twirls the keys around his fingers as he steps out and sets up a brisk pace toward the studio door (ten feet away because no way in hell is he exposing himself to being seen by anyone at the talent agency). “Sure, he gets my brilliant vision, that’s the only reason why it has to be this guy.”
“Yeah, it is. Everything else is just a bonus,” Dirk keeps pace easily enough and gives him a smirk before enabling the speaker on his phone mid ring which David hadn't seen him pull out to use. He's frankly not even sure where it could have been stored and is fully sure he doesn't want to think about it anymore.
”What,” the voice that answers is deep but too monotone to be annoyed or anything else really. Such enthusiasm for dealing with someone who is going to be paying you and likely put your name on the map for more work.
“We’re here Bro, let us in,” Dirk says curtly and hangs up before the dude can answer. He tilts his glasses down just enough to give David a capital L look. “Play your cards right and you might get a bonus yourself too.”
Which is all kinds of hell no that David doesn’t get to even scratch the surface of as the scraping click of a lock ( several locks, smart) being undone precedes the door to the studio being opened by someone that makes a whole lot of things make sudden sense.
David loves that little moment when the figurative light bulb goes off to make something really complicated and mystifying very clear. He'd love it even more if Dirk didn't go out of his way to engineer them.
“Uh,” the guy who opens the door sure as hell doesn’t have the chest for the deep voice that’d taken the call, and also doesn’t look old enough to legally rent the studio. Most importantly though, he's the kind of guy that David would have pegged as absolutely Dirk's type over a year ago before the kid’s descent into party hookup apathy. He’s wearing some pretty nice looking shades but it’s very clear to David that his gaze is firmly caught somewhere between Dirk’s knees and the hem of the skirt. “Sup?”
“Hey Dave,” Dirk hip checks David hard enough to push him away from the door and snags the keys and the guy’s wrist in one smooth motion before turning away. A practiced movement that makes the skirt flutter out intentionally no doubt. “See you in an hour, bro.”
“Thank fuck,” David mutters as Dirk pulls the boy (his own age and not a puppet, there is a god of some sort!) away in a hurry. Now he’s just standing there like an asshole, relieved and irritated about it with no one to throw hands with except for Dirk who he will be getting back at later. Especially if he finds any evidence of anything happening in his car. “Jesus fucking shit I don’t need this kinda stress kid.”
David takes a moment (risky because there’s movement coming from the talent agency) to breathe deeply and pull on his regular coolness before entering the studio. Business is still to be done, and he can antagonize Dirk later.
The change from bright sun to darkened interior leaves him momentarily blind and he takes a moment to just stand still. The air is several degrees cooler and there’s a breeze from a fan that he welcomes. It smells slightly musty and, oddly enough, a little like old books. He tilts his shades down to squint around him and is immediately greeted with a wall of bright, multi-colored puppet ass.
A white lattice trellis has been set up directly in front of the door to provide a kind of privacy screen. Plush rumps are shoved into the open slats and tiny feet sway when a fan deeper in the place oscillates enough to move air directly on them. David admires the cartoonish obscenity of the wall even more when he steps around it to see the distinctly dick shaped noses that quiver in a bouncy manner that he’s 80% sure will haunt him for a few nights.
He amends that to a week when he sees the empty black eyes and the pink interior of the open, smiling mouths. Between this and Dave, he's frankly impressed he's seen Dirk at all in the past month. And he hasn't even really looked at the rest of the shop. Once his eyes acclimate enough to push the shades back up he steps into the unknown.
The place is sectioned off into areas by more fencing and half of it is hidden behind a wall of tools and a long drape of fabric. Puppets, bolts of fabric, and bags of stuffing are everywhere in organized chaos that only likely makes sense to the people working here. Half finished projects clutter a few work tables but the centermost one has been cleared off and several finished puppets are laid out on it. A clanking sound behind the curtain lets him know where the maker is. David steps up to the table and takes the opportunity to see what’s been made so far according to the vague guidance he gave.
A choice he immediately regrets when the first puppet looks up straight into his soul with glassy eyes that have only a faint ring of gold to indicate an iris of some kind. It’s about two feet long and obviously meant to be puppeted from the ass end by a single hand. A direct contrast to the larger one next to it that looks like it’s meant to go over an actual actor. There’s even two marionettes laid out with the strings, somehow, neatly coiled and untangled. Each puppet on the table is of a slightly different style and function with nothing to tie them together as a cohesive cast.
Something that most directors would probably despair over but David kinda digs the trashfire aesthetic that it brings to mind.
He’s still wondering what else made Dirk single Strider out aside from Dave the assistant, or was it apprentice? Who the hell knew, probably kid of some kind if Strider was just getting started in town. With the way space and rent goes David’d bet anything there’s a couple of beds behind the curtain. Didn’t matter, he knew a lot of people who still lived out of their work places even after making enough to afford better. Those were the best people to work with because they never minded taking 2 AM calls which is when all brilliant ideas hit.
There has to be something else though to make Dirk think Strider will work well on the actual set. Perverted puppet ass isn’t enough in David’s books. Every puppet or monster shop has at least a little of that in it, and he’s got connections to several artists that can work wonders with the script. As much as David wants to finish off the shitty contract, he’s not willing to release something mediocre just to fulfill his obligations. He’s got a standard that he’s going to maintain even though he fully intends to burn his bridges to BC with their last movie, and to do that he really needs an exceptional puppeteer.
He finds his reason why at the end of the table closest to the curtain.
Hanging out in its own little area on top of a red velvet pillow (like the crown fucking jewels) is a naked puppet about the size of a person’s torso and looking like something ripped right off of Sesame Street if they ever made a porno. David knows it’s meant to be naked given the detailed nips on the perky tits, and the veining on the muppet dick pointing straight up towards its orgasmic face.
Holy fucking shit, the face.
The skin of the puppet is a soft looking lavender that is at odds with the red blush painted on the cheeks and the expression that David has the unfortunate knowledge of knowing is called an ahegao face due to one last parent/teacher meeting Dirk’s last year of high school when he decided to give a final presentation on the evolution of faces in hentai. With examples (“Everything’s better with pictures, David.”) in a powerpoint slide because the exact wording of the rules on the matter had allowed it. One last oversight David’s sure was corrected after he “generously” donated some funds to get them to release the kid’s damn diploma.
The eyes are heavily lidded and comically crossed as they stare right up at the top of its own head. The heart shaped pupils are whiter and glossier than those of the other puppets making them disturbingly lively looking. A darker purple tongue hangs out of the puppet’s painted mouth, tip touching midway down the chin, and something clear and shiny has been affixed to the lips and tongue to make it look like fresh drool. It fucking shines in the light and he can see straight down to the thing’s tonsils. Morbidly curious, he pokes at a thicker strand. Whatever it is gives slightly under the pressure and clings a bit to his finger he backs away with a shudder.
David is officially fucking impressed (and horrified, so damn horrified) despite himself because this is exactly what he never knew he needed on the set.
“It’s fully functional,” a voice says and David looks up as Strider ducks around the curtain with a couple more puppets under his arms that he lays out on the table. There’s a twang of an accent in his voice (hello cowboy) and David leans more towards Dave being a son based on looks alone. “Hire yourself a porn star and you can get some good shots with her.”
“You’re shitting me, right?” David manages to laugh like he’s been told the funniest joke and not doing a very quick reassessment of some preconceived notions. Dirk, he decides, is going to get grounded. Doesn’t matter how old he is, he still lives in David’s house so he’s going to have to pay for setting his poor older brother up like this. He’s a famous director for fucks sake, David’s used to working with highly attractive people. It’s just rare that he gets thrown off his stride (stride, Strider, heh!) so quickly when meeting someone new.
Strider is a fucking beefcake who looks like he could puppet a giraffe with one arm, and then lift a ten ton animatronic with only his back and thigh muscles. Blond hair spills out from under a hideous hat and David can’t see what his eyes look like from behind a set of pointy glasses that set off weeb alarms through his brain. He’s rocking a pair of jeans and tight shirt with a popped collar like the cringiest actor hired to film FratDickz XI: The Cumming. The whole effect shouldn’t be as appealing as it is, but no one’s ever (sadly) complimented David on his tastes.
“You made an actual fuck puppet,” David marshals his cool once again and lets some incredulity show through to hopefully mask anything else up. This is a business meeting first, he can hit the guy up for something more after. “That’s above and beyond the call of duty man. You really didn’t need to put that extra special touch on this project for me.”
Strider tilts his head and hums as he just looks at David. There’s a long drawn out moment of awkward silence that he refuses to acknowledge as the man seems to just study him. Assessing in a way that David’s more familiar with in the context of interviews --media and contract negotiating-- than anywhere else.
“Don’t get me wrong, this is a beautiful work of art here,” David casually turns back to the puppets. Another look at the o-face helps to knock his head back on track. “This movie is going to be the shit. Like a literal humongous pile of crap to crown off my last project for BC Pics. You could’ve saved yourself some trouble sticking to just the basics here.”
“Nah, I don’t make fucking decorations,” Strider says and Dave actually feels the last word against his right ear because the man is right behind him. Strider’s wearing a pair of open fingered leather gloves too. David gets a nice look at them as his well muscled arms reach around to rest his hands on the floppy legs of the puppet. Caging David in but not actually touching him at all.
Fingers skim up with the lightness of a lover’s touch and gently parting them to show off the cleft of a plush rump. The whole body of the puppet moves up a few inches before stopping. The fabric bulging to show the thing is somehow bolted to the table. There’s a lighter pink area that proves to be an asshole when Strider slides two fingers in (god, fucking damn what is David’s life?) and spreads it enough to show the telltale plastic of some kind of a silicone fleshlight. Strider releases the puppet and it slumps back to the table, the muppet penis bouncing with a strangely believable quiver. “If I’m going to make a puppet for a sex scene then I’m damn well making a puppet that can be fucked.”
David’s torn between the noting that Strider’s fingers look calloused and the horror of what’s just been revealed. A fleshlight. Sewn into a fucking puppet. David throws his head back and laughs.
Fucking hell, he can’t help it! He’s mentally rewriting and he knows damn well the scene will never make theatrical release, but he needs a fat, balding man to fuck this puppet in a business suit with a toupee flapping in the wind with each thrust. Face red and sweaty as he pants himself into a lust fueled heart attack. (Remember, all characters are fictional and any resemblance to condescendingly bigoted board members are clearly coincidental.) It’s going to happen even if it’ll only be seen in the director’s cut two years later. Released begrudgingly because BC won’t be able to resist the impulse to milk all the money they can out of their very last David Strilonde movie ever.
“Son of a bitch, I want ten of these fuckers! I’m going to make a whorehouse out of cardboard with a fucking drive through for everyone to get a taste of this fine velveteen ass,” David checks his instinctive urge to poke into the cavity and tilts his head to the side to aim a polished smile back. It leaves the side of his neck closest to Strider’s face open in a way that should read as flirtatious even if the man can’t see the way David flutters his eyelashes. “I’m almost smitten enough with him to get down on my knees and propose.”
“Fucking excuse you,” Strider bites out fully offended and that growl makes the hair on the back of David’s neck stand up. “Emily is a classy call girl with exacting requirements and a non-negotiable payscale. She put in a lot of work to get where she’s at today and don’t need no man to tie her down. I’ll give you smuppets for your cardboard fuck house, but Emily here gets a by the hour hotel room or nothing.”
“Well, fuck me, I didn’t mean to insult the lady in front of her pimp daddy,” David holds his hands up and out in a gesture of peace but Strider doesn’t back away. He looms over David and it’s stupid how he can feel the empty space where they’re not touching. “I plead my ignorance on the subject of all things puppets. Which is why I’m talking to you in the first place. I’ve got zero knowledge on anything puppety or foamy be it regular operations or carnal. Just not my style, man.”
“Don’t knock it till you try it,” Strider says and he thinks he can detect a hint of humor in the words before all that empty space collapses and David’s got a hot body pressing against his back. A pair of lips follow to press against the rim of his ear. Strider’s deep voice cajoling as he uses his body to push David a step closer to the table. “Seriously, try it.”
Business is apparently over with now. Got to be his shortest meeting to date yet.
“Uh, you know I think I’ll take your word for it. I kinda prefer things with a pulse,” David rocks back and lets himself like how he doesn’t get very far. Strider is a solid wall behind him and there’s something interesting starting to stir and greet his ass. “So why doooo~hello stranger!”
Strider rubs his hand firmly over David’s dick. Palm warm through the pants and fingers spread out fully enough to get his balls in on the action too. It’s assessing and almost teasing. Almost because just as David’s about to give rutting up into the touch like a horny teenager a try it’s gone and both hands are making quick work of his belt and zipper.
David helps to push them down midthigh with his boxers. A pointed weight settles in against his collarbone and Strider becomes a living weighted blanket as he grips David’s dick and gives a gentle pull. “Shit!”
It feels good, real good. David can feel the strength in that hand, and he’s getting intimately acquainted with the callouses on the fingers. The glove is a slightly cool slide that threatens to chafe if they really start going at it. To no one’s surprise, David’s least of all, he’s fully hard in seconds.
“This part of the deal?” David asks without stuttering as he bucks up into that hand, leaning back to let his own hands touch and explore the denim clad thighs that are bracing him. “Buy two puppets, get a free handie? Because fucking A+ marketing there.”
“Nah,” Strider drawls out and shuffles forward, which also coincidentally brings David closer to the table. Disturbingly close. He works to not balk when the plush legs of the puppet brush the bared skin of his legs. Strider reaches to the left of the doll and rummages under the pillow before pulling out a bottle of lube that he expertly snaps open with a thumb. “This is a test drive to make sure you like the goods before you buy.”
David hisses as the lube hits his dick, it’s cold enough to make him flinch back but Strider doesn’t allow it. Plastered from hip to shoulder there’s really nowhere for him to go, and the sudden easy slide of his hand almost distracts David from what the other hand is doing. The brush of floppy legs being wrapped around him.
“Oh, hell no, I’m not fucking a puppet!” David does not yelp as his dick is pushed down towards the plush ass Strider is angling up again. His thick thighs now clamped around David’s as he easily moves David where he wants him. It’s unfairly, stupidly hot. Which is the reason he’ll give in court when they ask him why his dick is still hard. Sorry your honor, I was massively turned on by being manhandled. “Seriously, you got the wrong Strilonde for this- shit!”
Strider bites David’s neck. Teeth digging in firmly enough to feel without breaking the skin, and David’s dick gives a traitorous lurch at the bolt of pure fucking Yes, want, please! that shoots through him. The moment of brain death is all Strider needs to push David’s dick into the fleshlight far too easily. The already slick and tight fleshlight that’s mother fucking vibrating!
It’s a tight fit, and cooler than is comfortable with the lube. The vibration runs along his dick and tickles his balls when they press against the (don’t even fucking think it!) cloth covered ass of the puppet (god fucking dammit). It’s contoured or something inside, a series of fucking nubs rub distractingly against the head of his dick when the sharp edge of the table bites into his thighs.
“Oh fucking shit jesus mother-!” David curses as he’s pushed in to the hilt by the steady grind of Strider against his ass. The other man’s dick is a solid weight locked tragically away behind jeans that David’s fingers are trying their damnedest to claw off as the man doesn’t let him back away. Just ruts against his ass as he brings one arm up to cross over David’s chest like a steel bar, and the other adjusts the stupid puppet until the faint vibration kicks up a notch.
David’s eyes (shut from the moment lube got brought in) open and the first thing he sees is the blissed out ahegao face of the puppet. He slams them closed and vows to keep them that way for his sanity. “You ass!”
“Emily’s ass,” Strider laughs into his neck. He licks against the no doubt bruising mark and doesn’t let up as his other arm goes low around David’s waist to lock them firmly together. “She’s got five different speeds, wouldn’t suggest the last two for just anyone though. It can feel like she’s trying to tear your dick off if you’re not into the rough stuff. It’s interchangeable too. I can make her as loose or tight as needed with just a little adjustment.”
“You, ah, you sound like you tested that out very thoroughly,” David groans (and wow, that’s a picture to think about later) as Strider finally rocks back, pulling David out of the toy a bit before thrusting him back in. Repeating the move to slowly build up a steady pace.
“Pimp’s gotta know what his ladies have to offer,” Strider presses his teeth against David’s neck without biting down and his lips twitch into a smirk David can feel at the moan that move gets him. He drags them up lightly and David shudders at the sensation. “And Emily’s the best I got right now. She can satisfy all the Johns and Janes who come calling no matter which way they want to take it.”
“Kinda one note now though,” David pants a little, moving with Strider when he pulls back further this time, but unable to move more than what he’s being allowed. He reaches back further until his shoulders strain a bit to dig his fingers in Strider’s ass (fucking thicc) as hard as he can and uses the leverage to grind against the man’s dick. He gets a harsh huff of air that almost sounds like a moan and a harder scrape of teeth that unfortunately makes his next words sound a little breathy. “Think I could get you to actually fuck me? I remember someone saying something about my ass being part of the negotiated pay here.”
“Yeah,” Strider adjusts around him again, the lower hand gone and back in a flash that David only notices because the toy vibrates harder around the half of his dick still inside making him jerk and groan as he’s pushed back in. “But nah. Not now, baby.”
“You- fuck!” David cries out as Strider thrusts hard until the fleshlight swallows his entire dick before settling into a circular grind that puts the intense vibration over every inch of David’s dick. The nubs inside the tight toy vibrate so much it feels like his dick is getting a massage, and David keeps his eyes shut because fuck if this isn’t going to be enough to finish him especially when Strider goes back to mauling his neck. Nipping and biting and sucking hard enough that David’s going to have to wear a scarf to keep from falling into the secret vampire lover media frenzy again. “Ah, fuck, come on- Just the tip. Promise I’ll only, ah, take the tip, bro.”
He can feel the vibration of a laugh through the broad chest pressed against him, but Strider doesn’t make a move to bring his man rod into play. He doesn’t pull back again, just uses his body to control David like one of his puppets, moving his hips in a maddening circle that makes white stars burst into the black void of David’s eyelids.
“I said later,” the drawl is thicker and slower like honey in his ear, “Come on now, stop holding back and give us the money shot.”
David groans and does exactly as he’s told when Strider’s teeth latch onto his earlobe and tug. Shuddering and filling the toy with thick strands of come as it keeps right on merrily vibrating. Pulsing and milking every last bit out of him until the sensation tips very quickly from oh fuck yes to oh fuck no.
“Shit, shit! Stop it, stop this fucking-” David babbles before he’s hauled back by the arms still around him. The cool air of the workshop is shocking even as it feels all too good on his spent dick still pulsing with phantom vibrations. “Oh fucking hell….”
David slumps back and takes in several long, deep breaths of air. Strider lets him have the moment to recover still plastered against him and rock fucking hard, but he's not doing anything about it and David's got to wonder about the man's self control. David only opens his eyes after flopping his head back to rest on one of the man’s shoulders and there’s no chance of seeing the puppet at all. He’s unsurprised to find he’s looking up at a puppet strung across the ceiling like some creepy spider with it glassy eyes that remind him of cameras seeming to peer right into his soul.
It’s an exchange of horror that he is willing to take.
“Awesome,” David starts to talk before he’s got his lungs fully back under control. He doesn’t move so much as let his weight slump back completely, focusing on Strider’s dick which he really wants to get acquainted with now. “I’ll take two. Now what do I have to bribe you with so that I never, ever have to do a dick on experience with a puppet ever again? I got a special going for my ass and my mouth that’s pretty good. Five star reviews all over if you want to look it up before reserving your spot in line.”
The hand around his chest moves until still slick fingers can grab his chin to tilt his head into a kiss. David’s shades slip and press uncomfortably against his nose but the hot tongue invading his mouth makes all his fucks fly the coop. Strider takes his time to thoroughly map out David’s mouth before pulling back with a small bite that makes him wonder if he can get it up again in their less than an hour time limit. “Let’s take this discussion to the back office.”
Maybe, David thinks as he’s pretty much hauled behind the curtain (bare mattresses on the floor and duffle bags, ha, he called it), he might want to work with Bro Strider after all.