“Does he enjoy pain with his pleasure, and will he tap out when I pull out my favorite knife?” I ask.
“I think that’s a very good question,” Alaric allows, getting into the driver’s seat.
This is why we all get along so well. We accept each other's crazy.
“As a distraction, I think we should go after the jock the professor was talking to. What’s his name? It’s one of those names that I always immediately forget. Bensen? Chad?” Alaric asks.
Pulling on my seatbelt as Alaric begins to pull out of the parking spot, I try to think of the guy’s name.
“Tracy.” I remember. “I can make sure he fails all his classes and gets benched this season.”
The school administration is pretty archaic, but they recently made a decision to have all grades digitized. It’ll be simple for me to go in and strategically give him failing grades on his heaviest weighted projects.
“Think something even more painful.” Alaric baits me as he drives.
“I could leave him frat cookies that are laced with hallucinogenic drugs.” I muse.
Alaric snorts with laughter, shaking his head. “He plays football,” he reminds me.
“Jamie would be pissed if you had all the players except him kicked off the team.”
“Ugh, can we follow him home from the next party and beat the fuck out of him?” I groan.
“If we can bring the lead pipes, then I’m in,” Alaric agrees.
“Fuck yes!” I yell, punching the air. “It’s been too quiet lately. I’m bored as fuck.”
“It has been.” He sighs. “I’d rather be bored than forced to tell Jamie he has to quit something he loves. We just have a fewmore years, and then we’re done with school. As long as business keeps going well, we can keep our dads happy.”
Bobbing my head in agreement, I watch as the posh buildings become more crowded and worn.
Crown Well Academy exists in a bubble, while the areas outside of it are more rundown and blue collar. We run chop shops, sell scrap metal, run the illegal fighting rings, and then have our more lucrative businesses of supplying and distributing drugs. Jamie’s father is the perfect person for getting us the good shit.
We’re able to run our businesses while still remaining outside of the public eye. It can sometimes get a little dicey when we overlap with other mafia families, but we all know the score.
No one wants a war.
Alaric’s and my father are currently at the fight rings, checking out the new talent that’ll be fighting tonight. Maybe I’ll convince him to put me in for a round. I need to spill some blood.
As Dad’s enforcer, I need to stay fit, and since everyone is behaving themselves, I’m feeling twitchy. If I don’t have a chance to fuck or fight it out to let off some steam, I’ll explode at the wrong time.
“I can almost hear you thinking,” Alaric teases, pulling into the gravel lot.
“Yeah, I know. You’ll find out soon enough,” I promise.
Dad waves at me from his spot against the wall of the gym as we walk in, and I nod in greeting before I look around. It’s loud as people spar, work on their technique with trainers, or wait for their turn in the practice rings.
“You’re up to something.” Alaric grumbles, walking alongside me, playing with his tongue ring. It makes me want to feel it drag along my cock, and I promise myself that I’ll be face fucking Alaric soon.
Sometimes, the bathroom is the best place to find relief, and Alaric is always down.
“Definitely,” I chuckle. “Hey, Dad.”
“What are you up to?” he asks. I swear, the man is in his late fifties and has superhuman hearing.
“I want to kidnap my teacher. How much shit would I be in if I did it?” I ask, smirking.
Dad rolls his eyes, knowing full well that’s not the only reason for my appearance. This is a pit stop before doing my typical scan of video cameras, accounts, and digging into personal affairs for people Dad needs to blackmail.
