Lost the ask but someone asked what would happen if the neighbors called the police on Erik for being too loud while smashing. 🤔
---All mine.
All mine.
All mine All mine All mine.
Erik hung onto your waist still flinging you forward as gravity pulled you back.
Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap.
Your loose tiddies hang over the arm of the creaking leather couch as you brace yourself each time you're launched, dick deep enough to make you move when he throws it.
Pushing your ass back adding to gravity, falling back on his girth, your push your hand between your body and the couch to rub your button, activating accension.
The broomstick from the apartment below thumps the floor.
Between your songs of praise, the thunder claps, and the consecutive ass smacks, cracking like lightening, the soundtrack of good sex reminds the neighbors of what they watch online, never experiencing.
His breath on your neck combined with the deep strokes bring rain down your already wet thighs.
Thump. Thump. The broomstick under the floor goes on.
The couch slides on the wood floor pushed by the pressure of your bodies as he's hitting you over the arm.
"Fuuuck," you cry out wiping the beaded sweat from your upper lip and falling over into brief slump.
"Com'ere."
Your chin gets snatched up, neck stretched, his grip under your chin pulling your head back for leverage as he pushes your leg up further.
Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap.
This is second time this album has looped with y'all still being on this couch.
"Gimme it."
Thump. Thump.
Knock knock.
The couch continues to slide as the dick inside of you chases you up it.
"POLICE," a white male voice calls through the door with Brent talking over all else.
Both you and Erik try to ignore it but they aren't leaving.
He pulls out of you sitting for a moment as the cops continue to demand he open the door.
With the music turned down their words become more clear.
"We just need to talk to ya."
With a sigh Erik answers the door naked, in your full view but concealed from them.
"Good evening, we're responding to a few calls actually from your neighbors who've made noise complaints. Would you.. would you ah, know anything about that?"
"Sorry officer I don't have my hearing aid could you speak up a bit?"
"We're responding to a noise complaint," the cop gets louder and slower. "A NOISE COMPLAINT."
"Sir, are you yelling?"
You cover your mouth from your seat on the couch so not to laugh. The cop is getting audibly irritated.
"Look I'm need to ask you a few-"
"Do you have a warrant," Erik closes the door a bit more like he's blocking an action. The cop must've attempted to bypass the door.
"We don't want any problems, we just need to speak with you."
"I'm sorry I couldn't catch all that, but I do read lips."
"Could you bring your partner to the door, maybe she can understand," the officer belittles, but it's not your place and you're not talking to the cops.
"She's hard of hearing too," Erik lies to the officer's face. You rest assured.
"Then can you come out so we can talk to you right quick," the officer persists.
"I'm not coming out," Erik chuckles humorlessly. "Don't worry...We'll keep it down."
"Ok well if we come back out here it's a citation."
The door closes and locks. You wait on couch while he walks back.
"They snitched on us," he whispers settling on the couch beside you.
"What you gonna do," you ask genuinely interested and invested. He's the one to told you you could be loud as you wanted.
You can tell the wheels in his mind are spinning.
A month later, you find out what he did. The neighbors downstairs have moved out. According to him, they plan to sue him but they have no evidence only accusations born from petty bitterness.
Erik's lips pursed as he prepared to rehash the events to you, his female friend. You wanted to know.
He'd been thinking of a way to get them back. A way that couldn't be traced to him. He found a website that boasted of mailing weird things anonymously. It was a site specifically erected for this type of revenge.
He picked an ornate box and paid for the cellophane wrapping. The gift would be alluring to anyone, the surprise of it making it even more exciting to recieve. The trick however was in opening the gift.
The second the box was opened, dog shit would spray in all directions like exploding confetti.
He hoped they lost their deposit. You did too.
"For these other ones," he nodded taking in your expression. "I haven't figured it out yet, I'm kinda laying low."
"Fuck that, I got the perfect idea," you stare evilly.
---
Now I'm wondering.. what would y'all do???
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Killmonger's One-Shot Collection
RomanceBook of my short stories, which include Cruisin', Kwelanga of Days, Arguments, Three Weeks Into an Era, 24 Hours, Finger Rings, Baby Fever, On the Hotline, Can You Handle It, Strawberry Shortcake, Open Auditions, Mirror Mirror, Crowning Glory, Catf...