MetaDeprivation - 8. MetaPrompts 576: Bond (MW8)

“How much longer do I have, doctor?” Rob cringingly overacted his mental anguish soap-opera-like.

Bradley rolled his eyes while he made sure he didn’t speed with Colt’s Audi. Crashing his Meta’s favorite car would be bad, getting injured in the process would be really bad. And not because of any car accident-related injuries that might heal easily during a shift, but because of Prime’s punishment that would follow after that. And he was pretty sure the car’s GPS was linked to Sam’s ‘Command Center’ and would sound a heck of an alarm in case of continued speeding. Nope, he was aching already enough because of CE’s training, the last thing he needed was some ‘motivation’ by a former marine something sergeant. He so didn’t want to enjoy a stay in Prime’s ‘Private Brig’ very downstairs. “20 minutes,” he answered.

“Are you hijacking me? There’s no place close to this road for nearly an hour,” Rob teased. “What if I resist the kidnapping?”

Bradley grinned meanly. He lifted his wide polo-shirt – he had left the tight versions at ShadowLands – to reveal his ‘convincing argument’ beyond his adoring smile and killer muscles.

“You’re carrying?” Rob asked, his mouth trembling a bit.

“Courtesy of my pack,” Bradley announced. He didn’t need to share how proud CE was of his shooting skills – despite being a bloody civilian.

“So it’s not enough I’ll be the helpless ‘Young Kid,’ and you the ‘Seven Wolves?’” He added some scared bleating to underline his point.

“You’re not a goat, and there’re more than seven wolves, but you’re right, one wrong move and you’re dinner …”

Rob made “Pppffff. If you wanted to suck me, you should have told me earlier.”

Bradley ignored Rob, instead, he threatened: “And if you call me ‘doctor’ one more time, I will have you for dinner.” He opened his mouth. Two fangs had broken through.

“Hey, you decided to do a Ph.D. in geology … I mean … don’t you know that makes your dick rot away? Doctor in dead rocks?”

Bradley growled.

“Thinking about it. You don’t need a dick anyway, do you? Colt’s the only dick in the house. No wonder your ass keeps growing. Soon you can change your name to Kardashian …”

“You’re looking at my ass?”

Rob rolled his eyes dramatically, throwing his hands into the air – again soap-opera style. “How often do I need to tell you that I’m completely comfortable with my sexual preferences, so I can look wherever I want. And your ass is becoming obscenely attractive … if one is into male ass.”

“Not you of course …” Bradley teased.

Rob made a seizure-like ‘yuck’-movement.

And Bradley just smiled meanly.

“Where is that fucking place now … you do have toilets … or do you go potty in the forest?”

Bradley didn’t lose his smile. Rob would be in for a treat. He suddenly stopped in the middle of nowhere.

“I can’t see anything …,” Rob complained. “I know you have that lumberjack thing going on, but I enjoy a bed. I don’t need to compensate for my lack of perceived masculinity by roughing it like your soldiers.”

“Marines,” Bradley corrected instinctively. He opened an app on his mobile phone.

“The über-compensators.” Rob wanted to continue, but he spotted several trees and bushes moving, revealing a road up the hill. “Cool, that’s so James Bond,” he changed topic in a beat. “So Colt’s ‘M?’ – Do you have a number? – Wait, your number is in your tattoo … tattooed like a piglet’s ear. ‘I’m Nollen, Piglet Bradley Nollen,” he theatrically re-enacted the introduction scene.

Bradley started the Audi again and confirmed as per SOP that the gates closed behind him. Nobody on the main road would ever suspect that exit.

Rob stopped breathing for a second before he corrected himself: “You’re not James Bond. This is the villain’s place. Do you have sharks as well?” Rob asked when he spotted the main gate after some minutes. Watch towers, bars, spikes in the ground and a bunch of very hunky men with even hunkier guns seemed to peek his interest. “So Colt’s taking over the world? And fucks his bodyguards in the meanwhile? That would be a new kind of Bond movie: ‘From Texas with Dick,’ or ‘The Man with the Leaking Cock,’ or … fuck ‘Octo-pussy,’ I never thought about …” Rob spit saliva all over the car “Octo-pussy!” he repeated when he had caught himself.

Bradley burst into laughter as well. ‘Octopussy.’ Talk about foreshadowing. He made a mental note to clean the Audi this evening before he tried to control himself again when Gunner looked at him with confusion. “Sir?”

“All ok, Gunner. This is Rob.”

Rob showed his biggest All-American baseball jock smile with impeccable teeth, perfect skin and a soul that had never seen the dark. “Hi, so you’re one of Colt’s pussies as well – might have to rename it into 'Hekapussy …'”

Bradley first turned red like his hair, causing Rob to giggle, then he turned to Gunner: “I’m sorry, fighter. He’s human.”

Gunner shook his head but ordered his men to open the gate.

Then Bradley said: “The only reason I don’t beat you up now is that I’m too surprised you know ‘heka.’”

Rob rolled his eyes queerly-dramatically, imitating Kurt, his finger painting circles around him: “Not just pretty pussy-licking face! Real pussy, I mean.”

Bradley sighed and drove on.

“It’s beautiful,” Rob changed the tune the second they were at the top of the mountain looking down at ShadowLands.

Bradley smiled.

He was home. He sensed his wolf brothers. Somewhere in the distance, he could even smell a hint of Colt. His body calmed. It didn’t matter anymore what jokes Rob came up with. Everything would be okay now. For more than one reason.

“I do feel like a goat now,” Rob couldn’t help teasing, when he got out of the Audi – his door opened by a burly guy in police uniform. “But I’m not into handcuffs,” he added quickly pointing at the cute blond guy’s belt.

“Normally, I don’t care if the boys I want to fuck are into handcuffs,” a thin voice commented coldly.

“And that has to be the Nerdmeister himself.” Rob turned around and bro-hugged the man. “Wife beater? Man, you’re really pervy,” he commented once he had taken a step back, looking at Colt in his black tank top, the tight Wrangler jeans, and black army boots. “Don’t tell me you also have a gun on you … I mean it would be a colt … Colt’s colt …”

“Depends on which ‘colt’ you’re referring to … this one,” Colt pushed his hips forward, “is accessible right now …” He made an inviting movement with his head towards the corner.

Rob lifted his hands apologetically; first, because he didn’t want to make the personal acquaintance with any of Colt’s colts, but also because of that mean-looking, huffing red-haired guy in a tight gray Marines-T-shirt who pushed himself between Colt and Rob. “Hi, I’m Prime.”

“I’m Rob. So you’re in charge here … I mean after that little dom there?” Rob asked.

Prime smiled, exposing his big white teeth – it was a friendly threat. “Yes, I’m the über-wolf. You can call me ‘Alpha.’”

“I guess ‘Alpha Prime’ works – wouldn’t be weird at all, would it,” Rob commented.

Prime shook his head in confusion, and Bradley only whispered: “Forget it.”

“This is Brian,” Colt intervened.

“Hello. Wow, shame my brother’s husband isn’t here,” Rob quipped. He didn’t wait for the ‘Why?’ but added: “He’s so into those cute lean blond jock-strapped jocks …”

“Rob,” Bradley begged. His faced turned crimson.

Colt smiled leniently as if saying: ‘Let him have the fun as long as it lasts …’

“Lieutenant Nawat,” Colt continued the introductions. “If you’re nice he won’t send you to Camp Pendleton, and you can call him ‘Gavin,’” he teased.

Rob shook hands with a smirk.

“So you’re the brat?” Gavin asked, trying to stay serious.

“I guess it takes one to know one,” Rob wouldn’t be intimidated. “I’ve heard stories,” he threatened.

And Bradley turned into a fireplug.

“CE – and you really want to call him CE!” Colt suggested with uninhibited amusement.

“Welcome, Rob. We’ve heard a lot about you.” CE’s smile seemed to be genuine.

“And I thought you were wolves, not were-bears,” Rob stated.

“I can show you my ‘wolf’ anytime,” the next guy interrupted. “I’m Sam.”

“Cool, I guess you started scrawny as well before you met Colt,” Rob stated.

For a second the temperature dropped below zero before Brian intervened. “I hope you like his T-shirt!”

“’Size Matters!’ – Absolutely, look at Brad’s ass,” Rob agreed.

And Bradley wanted to disappear from the surface of the Earth.

“I’m Sykes, Mr. Perry,” Isaac introduced himself stiffly.

Rob shook hands politely. For some reason, he got the vibe that any joke with this guy might result in broken bones. So he moved on to the guy in police uniform. “So, we have lumberjack, policeman, soldiers, …”

“Marines,” Bradley interrupted whining.

Rob pushed it aside. “… baseball jocks … What is this, Colt, the 2019 YMCA recast?”

“Yep, you’re lucky the baseball jock position is already taken,” Colt answered. He put his hand on Bradley’s neck to help the wolf find his calm again. “He’ll pay for it,” he whispered.

Rob liked the guys. They needed to loosen up a bit, he thought, but after some steak – man, were those steaks yummy – and more beer – did they have a brewery in this compound, several games of rugby, baseball, and soccer (strange), he was deadbeat. A perfect bro day coming to an end.

The guestroom was luxurious and the shower gigantic.

He liked this place, despite all of the über-compensating ‘masculineness,’ making it more homoerotic than the USMC recruiting website.

He finally fell asleep …

… until he woke up painfully. Sitting tied to a chair. Blindfolded and gagged ‘Pulp Fiction’-style.

What the fuck?