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Emo Kid Sid

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Body Art. [Mar. 19th, 2011|10:48 pm]
Emo Kid Sid
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I'm a huuuuge perv. And drunk.
There's also an Arzt. I mean, an art.
It's just a couple of quick sketches. They need some editing.

Body Art.

It was strange when Ofdensen started to notice certain.... things. Like how he let himself be distracted by the wayward ends of the boy's hair curling slightly outward now that it had grown out some.

He was often caught off guard when Levi would glance up at him. He'd forgot that Levi wasn't as.... dim as the rest of his charges, who probably wouldn't have noticed anything short of Ofdensen slapping them in their faces. Lee would usually pick up on when he was being watched.

"Are you needing something, Mee-ster Ofdensen?"

"No, I was just, ah, avoiding work for a few moments." Pathetic.

"Okay then." Levi was always grateful for any attention from the older man. He smiled and went back to his game, waiting patiently for any little chore he might end up being tasked with.

That damn boyish smile, decorated black and orange for the Halloween holiday. It was shameful, the things he'd found himself thinking recently. He was a grown man, for God's sake, somewhere around 40-something, perhaps. He had no business lusting after someone young enough to still have braces. Knowing that Levi had similar feelings for him made things harder (no pun intended), but that could absolutely be chalked up to an adolescent crush, and probably something or other to do with hormones and youth. A teenage boy had a naive excuse. An adult did not.

Work. There was work to do. Emails which needed replies. Phone calls that needed to be made. Meetings that needed to be scheduled. Yes, that was a good idea. Bury himself in his work, just like he always did. It was more important, and would (hopefully) keep his mind off of other things. A tried and true tactic if there ever was one.

It worked for a while, until after Levi left the office to play DDR with Toki, and on through the early evening. But when the work was finished, or he simply couldn't take any more for the day (those lines overlapped a bit sometimes), Ofdensen found his thoughts back in where he absolutely didn't want them. Against his better judgement, he kept his laptop on and opened the web browser.

Levi kept a personal webpage, partly for his friend Nikolai back in Russia, but mostly for himself, or the band members when there was something they might be interested in. An online journal of sorts, where he could store his photos and memories and stories for a later nostalgic day. Ofdensen clicked the bookmark to Levi's site, and logged in. He used a fairly unassuming sign-in name. He felt a bit like a stalker. But that was part of his job: To keep a close eye on what Dethklok plus one did, and monitor their actions for safety's sake.

There were no updates since Ofdensen last checked, and he was just about to sign out of his account when the site's instant messenger popped up and said "Heya." It caught the manager off guard for a moment, and he had a horrible feeling of "I've been caught!" come over him. He was moments away from typing the apology and excuse that were quickly forming in his head, when the next message appeared.

Levechka says: "I seen you've come to my page sometimes. Do I know who you are?"

Okay, so maybe Levi had no idea it was Ofdensen who was creeping around him. But what if he did know, and was only pretending not to, so he could get Ofdensen to out himself? Paranoia came with the package of running Dethklok, but this was probably going too far. So the manager decided to play innocent and explained that he'd simply run across the website randomly one day, and liked to check in every once in a while.

"That's okay. I like this," Levechka typed back. "But whycome, if I can ask?" (Followed by an apology for the less than perfect English and possible poor spelling. There wasn't a spell check in the instant messenger.)

If Ofdensen was going to have to lie about certain things, there was no reason he couldn't tell the truth about others. Saying that he took a liking to what Levi had to say, and that, though he was older, he found the boy rather attractive wasn't revealing. And it seemed everything was ending up in Ofdensen's favour, leaving Levi none the wiser about who was talking to him.


The two continued casual conversation for several days, before Ofdensen casually mentioned there had been no photos posted recently. At least he hoped it came off as casual.

Levi said that there had been nothing good to take pictures of, and asked what kind of photos his friend would like to see, to which Ofdensen responded with "Photos of you."

Levechka says: "What kind of photos of me are you wanting?"

Cefonth says: "Anything you want to show me. I wouldn't ask for anything explicit, though. I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable."

Knowing that someone thought of him that way gave Levi a bit of a thrill. He could be willing to show some things, sure. He asked, in his own still-learning-the-English-language way, if his friend had any preferences in what he wanted to see.

Ofdensen made himself stop for a moment. He felt inappropriate enough having these false conversations. Asking the boy for dirty photographs was out of the question. As much as he enjoyed it, he wouldn't let the situation go that far. If he would set a line not to cross, that would be it. Or at least one of them. Then he reminded himself that he was awful, especially if that was the no-go area.

It had been such a long day. Self-control was harder to maintain on those days. It was so easy to just give in. Just do something for himself this once. That was usually something that happened only on occasion, though this strange internet relationship that was going on was proof that the manager might be losing his grip on himself. Still, an idea came to mind and, disregarding his self-respect, asked Levi if he owned a soccer uniform.

Levechka says: "I have it. I've grown some since wearing it last, but should still fit. Then you want this?"

Cefonth says: "Yes. Wear that for me."

Of course, Ofdensen knew very well that the boy had a soccer outfit. It was so hard to forget that uniform, with those bright red socks doing everything to accentuate the calf muscles they covered. Telling Levi to put it on for him was even more exciting than he imagined it would be.

There was no response for a minute or two, which was a little worrisome. Then Ofdensen's phone rang, making the manager jump. Seeing that it was Levi calling caused a horrible, horrible sinking feeling. No question now, he'd been caught. "Ofdensen," he answered carefully.

"Hi, Mee-ster Ofdensen. Is Levi. When's my orfa-dentiss appointment?"

Appointment? Ofdensen had completely forgotten. He quickly looked at his schedule, and replied with "Two o'clock. Be at my office in an hour so we can make it on time."

After they hung up the phone, Ofdensen breathed a huge sigh of relief, and read the latest message.

Levechka says: "I have the mouth doctor in one hour. So I can do pictures tonight this evening, I think. Okay with you?"

Cefonth says: "That would be just fine."


Ofdensen tried to play it cool that afternoon, and tried not to compulsively check his second email account every thirty seconds.

Meanwhile, Levi dug out his old soccer uniform, and figured out how to make his camera take multiple pictures on its own. After putting the yellow shirt and white shorts on, he looked at himself in the mirror and frowned. Maybe he was attractive. Maybe he could see that. Maybe. This wasn't the first time he'd gotten the attentions of an older man. That was okay, wasn't it? Yeah, that was probably okay. He bared his teeth, inspecting the new interchanging red and blue, and adjusted his clothes. The shorts were a little shorter than they were the last time he'd worn them, but not by too much. He also hoped he wasn't finished growing just yet.

Alright. He could do this. This wasn't the first time he had to do something like this, and it might be kind of fun this time around. In fact, Levi couldn't help but being a little excited about taking pictures of himself like this. For someone else. Someone he wanted to show, though he couldn't figure out why. But he learned to try to stop trying to figure out "why" for so many things a long time ago. Giving the shirt one last tug, he decided he was ready for this.

The camera snapped while Levi pulled the red socks on over his feet, up to his knees, giving an occasional smirk towards the shutter, but mostly keeping his eyes on what he was doing. He slowly lifted the hem of the shirt up over his belly. Skimming his fingertips over his skin, he smiled at the tickling feeling, counted up his ribs, and pulled the shirt over his head, hanging it over one shoulder.

Something about the fact that another person was going to be looking at him, wanted to look at him doing these things that would end up being so filthy, turned him on so much. He traced his fingers up the outside of the shorts, up his cock, already so hard against the slick fabric. There was nothing stopping him from filming more than this. He didn't have to send all the pictures if his friend didn't want them. But going farther seemed like a good idea in his sex-clouded mind. What could it hurt?


Ofdensen gasped slightly when the new email showed up. For one reason or another, he was hesitant to click the link, but gave in soon enough.

"Dear friend," the message said. "I hope these are okay for you. So you know, I have more if you want them."

The first shot was of Levi working the first sock over his right foot, the toes of his left flexing, in Ofdensen's opinion, just perfectly. He scrolled through the images, watching the tight red socks being pulled on, the backs of those knees his tongue wanted to taste, the shirt rising up, revealing that stomach and that smooth chest his fingers longed to touch, the collar bone his lips begged to kiss, those shoulders that needed to be grabbed and held on to.... And the shorts, tugged down to one side just enough to show the top of a bare hipbone, teasing, suggesting all the rest that slender body had to offer.

A thought occurred to Ofdensen as he looked through the photos again, seeing the boy's erection showing plainly, covered by the thin layer of silken white shorts, the freckled cheeks flushed (from arousal, or embarrassment, who could tell?), those hooded greyish-brown eyes just glancing at the camera, glancing at him. If he went to Levi's room right now, asked to kiss him, touch him, taste him, fuck him, he knew Levi would say yes. It was painfully tempting. He tried, a little bit, but Ofdensen couldn't bring himself to that. So he sent a message to thank Levi profusely, and unzipped his pants, wishing shamefully he had the guts to ask for the rest of the photos.