11-22-2016, 05:04 AM
Later that evening, Fife was at Samuel's house, wondering what in the hell had happened. It had been just another day this morning! Now they'd been bought and paid for, both of them together. It was too good to be true, which meant it probably was. They'd been given civilian clothing, cleaned up, and shipped off.
Link had tried to reassure Fife before he left, reassure him that he wasn't going to run off, and that he would be back later that night. Then he'd gotten dressed up, for the first time in years, and took a cab downtown. Now Fife was at Samuel's house, standing awkwardly in the living room, wondering what the hell he was supposed to be doing. Link had volunteered him for cooking, cleaning, and laundry duty. Maybe he could start on that.
Unfortunately, his clothes weren't exactly meant for cleaning. The Facility had given him the clothes, and they weren't his style at all: ratty blue flip-flops, basketball shorts, and a T-shirt. He looked like an idiot.
He sighed heavily and began tip-toeing through the house, trying to get a sense of his surroundings. After all, Samuel was a complete mystery to him, and suddenly being in his house was all the more intimidating, though Fife kept his cautious glare as he gave himself a tour.
XXX
Link, meanwhile, felt right at home at the front gates of a club. Simple jeans, red Converse, a vintage T-shirt, he was ready for the hunt. He got past security easily and into the pulsing crowd of the exotic club.
He smirked to see more than a few couples in their respective booths, most of them barely dressed, moaning and panting as they mauled each other. There were a few orgasmic shouts that rang through the crowd and Link had to chuckle. Ah, exhibitionism. After years of celibacy, it was proving difficult not to stop and watch, but he had prey here, and he would find it.
He stopped by the bar and indulged in a scotch, if only because he'd missed the taste, and then continued through the crowds, scanning for his quarry, wondering if he was even here at all.
Link had tried to reassure Fife before he left, reassure him that he wasn't going to run off, and that he would be back later that night. Then he'd gotten dressed up, for the first time in years, and took a cab downtown. Now Fife was at Samuel's house, standing awkwardly in the living room, wondering what the hell he was supposed to be doing. Link had volunteered him for cooking, cleaning, and laundry duty. Maybe he could start on that.
Unfortunately, his clothes weren't exactly meant for cleaning. The Facility had given him the clothes, and they weren't his style at all: ratty blue flip-flops, basketball shorts, and a T-shirt. He looked like an idiot.
He sighed heavily and began tip-toeing through the house, trying to get a sense of his surroundings. After all, Samuel was a complete mystery to him, and suddenly being in his house was all the more intimidating, though Fife kept his cautious glare as he gave himself a tour.
XXX
Link, meanwhile, felt right at home at the front gates of a club. Simple jeans, red Converse, a vintage T-shirt, he was ready for the hunt. He got past security easily and into the pulsing crowd of the exotic club.
He smirked to see more than a few couples in their respective booths, most of them barely dressed, moaning and panting as they mauled each other. There were a few orgasmic shouts that rang through the crowd and Link had to chuckle. Ah, exhibitionism. After years of celibacy, it was proving difficult not to stop and watch, but he had prey here, and he would find it.
He stopped by the bar and indulged in a scotch, if only because he'd missed the taste, and then continued through the crowds, scanning for his quarry, wondering if he was even here at all.